Traveller
by adrien skywalker
Summary: Events change drastically after the death of Sirius Black, in this story from canon. Pushed beyond the edge, a frustrated Harry Potter snaps all ties to the Wizarding world and escapes to a remote place to redefine himself. Hunted by various factions, he finally decides to retaliate by using the most unconventional means. His enemies will finally learn how dangerous muggles can be!
1. Redifining

_**To,**_

_**The Order,**_

_**I don't care what your reasoning may be, but right now, I don't give a damn, and therefore I am going on a vacation, and you can't do a damn thing about it, even if you wanted to. If I don't get out of this hellhole, I am certain I would have to kill myself. Don't try to track me, and don't follow me, because you won't be able to. I will return when I want to, because at this point, I don't give a damn about education, or prophecies or any other such shit. And as for Voldy, he can go fuck a duck for all I care.**_

_**Sorry Old man, but you had it coming,**_

_**Harry**_

* * *

The moment Albus Dumbledore read this letter, his knees buckled, and he sat down on his chair perspiring while the letter fluttered down on his desk.

The Order meeting that night could be described in one word. Pandemonium.

"We have to get the poor boy back immediately, who knows, what kind of dangers, he will be in," Molly Weasley spoke in a terrified tone, while still managing to shatter the eardrums of everybody else in the vicinity.

"We will Molly, don't worry," Albus spoke as he cleared out his ears.

"Kingsley, Tonks, and Alastor, you will be in charge of the search, find him at all costs, but be invisible, if he doesn't want to return, stay with him and follow him and make sure he doesn't get hurt," Dumbledore spoke after a while as he looked at the letter.

That night, Hermione had a visitor. "Professor Dumbledore, this is a surprise," the bushy headed young woman spoke as she greeted him.

"I'm afraid that I have some bad news," Dumbledore took a deep breath, "Harry has left us to go somewhere, and we have no idea as to where, at least we believe so," the professor spoke quietly.

"You don't think he got captured do you?"

"Absolutely not, I would be the first to know if that were to happen," the Headmaster replied resolutely as he reached into his robes and pulled out the letter that Harry had sent him. "May I see that Professor?" Hermione took the letter, "Of course, I expected this to happen," the young witch sighed as she finished reading the letter, while Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"And why would you say that?" Dumbledore spoke quietly.

"Professor, imagine living every moment of your life as per somebody else's instructions, how would you feel? For as long as he can remember, others have been deciding how he should live his life, without bothering to ask his opinion, and recently he has lost the only person who could have been a parent to him. No wonder he left, it would have been unbearable," the young witch sighed.

Dumbledore's heart sank and the aged wizard bowed his head as he pondered over that statement.

"I think I am finally beginning to understand," the old mage spoke in a heavy tone.

"No, you still don't. Professor, let me give you a bit of advice. This time, you will not be able to stop him, and you definitely will not be able to bring him back. I advise you, to let him be, let him calm down, and then he will come back himself," Hermione smiled as Dumbledore smiled and left after bidding her good night.

As he was leaving, Dumbledore heard her voice, "Professor, please tell whoever you are sending after him to be prepared for anything, this won't be easy," and with that Hermione went back into her home.

"A remarkable girl," Dumbledore muttered as he walked back.

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**In a Seedier part of London, 4 Days prior to above said events,**_

* * *

"I have heard that you are the best source in these parts to gain some items," the young man spoke to a beefy looking Scotsman with a beard.

"What do you have in mind laddie?" the man asked quietly. This person wasn't like the usual clients he got, he realized as he looked at the young man. The man quietly handed him a list. His eyes grew wide as he scanned the list.

"This is a lot of hardware boy. You going to start something here? The mob here won't like it, and it is going to reflect badly on my business," the man growled. The boy was asking for almost an entire armory.

"This has nothing to do with the mob. This is personal business. And my place of work is somewhere else. I just came here to gain the merchandise. Are you dealing or not?" the youth asked with a tiny amount of irritation.

The man raised an eyebrow.

"I pity the son of a bitch who pissed you off like this. You sure you can afford this? It takes a lot of coin to afford this level of hardware," the man asked quietly. "Money is not a problem. Name your price and the date of delivery. Cash on delivery," the boy spoke quietly. The man whistled. The kid was loaded, and he didn't mince meat. He was beginning to like the kid. The kid's enemies sure as hell weren't going to. Hell, even the Mob didn't take this much hardware at the same time.

He wrote an address on a piece of paper.

"Come here in two days to take delivery. Be there kid, I am gonna have to pull a lot of strings for this," the man warned him. The young man nodded and left.

* * *

_**2 Days later,**_

* * *

At Russell Square, at an old warehouse, a truck was being loaded with a lot of crates. Once the loading was done, the young man handed over a briefcase to the dealer.

The dealer grinned, "Pleasure doing business with you kid. So, I guess we will be hearing about your exploits soon on the telly then?" he asked curiously.

The young man shook his head.

"Ah well, you need anything, just call. You just became one of my most valuable customers," the man grinned as he handed him a card.

"I will keep that in mind," the young man spoke as he got in the driver's seat.

"You do that," the dealer grinned. He had a reason to be happy. He had sold illegal arms worth half a million pound sterling that night after all.

As the truck reached the outskirts of London, the young man took out a gold coin and taped it to the windshield. 2 minutes later, the entire truck was portkeyed away.

* * *

_**A Week ago, before above said events,**_

* * *

In Diagon alley, Harry paused as he took in the scenery. He would really miss England.

Rushing to Gringotts, he immediately went to the nearest open teller; "yes" the goblin looked down at him. "I wish to speak with my account manager," Harry spoke quietly as the goblin raised an eyebrow.

"Key" the goblin asked reaching out to accept his vault key, "one moment please."

"Very well, follow me please," the goblin spoke as he waddled towards a door. Harry followed in and soon the goblin pointed him towards a chamber.

As Harry entered, he noticed that he was in an office, and a goblin rose from behind a desk at the centre and greeted him.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter, I am Driftwood, I am currently the manager of the Potter family accounts. Now, what can I do for you?"

"As you are aware, my godfather has recently passed away, and I have inherited the Black Vaults as well. However, I am currently planning on going on a world tour, and therefore would like to set my finances in order, before I commence my journey," Harry spoke while the goblin nodded.

"Understandable. What do you need?" Driftwood asked the boy.

"I need a way to access my account while abroad" Harry answered quickly, "and I'll need to be able to get muggle money as well as Galleons."

The goblin rummaged through a small drawer on his desk for several minutes before pulling out a small pouch, "this pouch will draw coins directly from your account and it will also change into a muggle wallet which will allow you to draw the appropriate muggle currency, besides which, we will also provide you with a couple of credit cards, will that be all?"

"I'll also need all of my transactions to be kept private" Harry hardened his features, "I do not want anyone finding out about any of my transactions."

"Of course not" the goblin seemed mildly offended, "Goblin confidentiality is beyond reproach."

"Good" Harry nodded in satisfaction, "otherwise I would have been forced to close my accounts in the belief that I could no longer trust Gringotts to manage my fortunes."

"I see" the goblin frowned, "rest assured that no one but yourself shall receive any accurate information concerning your account."

"Thank you" Harry nodded politely, "so unless you have anything you want to talk about, then I've got to be going."

"Well, Mr. Potter, since you are going to travel internationally and quite possibly for a long duration, perhaps may I interest you in some of our unique merchandise? We normally do not offer such services to all customers, but you are one of our most valued, so if you would be interested in our assistance, we would be glad to offer it," Driftwood spoke quietly.

"Well, I was wondering whether you could handle my travel documents procurements, more specifically a means to acquire multiple alternate identities. After all, I am rather well known, and I would like this kept quiet," Harry spoke as the goblin smirked.

"Of course, we can provide you with a passport and a fake identity, which will allow you to travel internationally and more importantly, anonymously. Anything else?" the goblin asked as he began to make notes.

"Well, do you have anything that can disguise me effectively, and I don't want polyjuice, I want something that can stay on indefinitely, and not release until I will it, no matter what," Harry spoke quietly.

Driftwood paused for a bit, after which he nodded, "We can handle that. We will provide you with a goblin earring, the kind our people use when they go on expeditions in the muggle world. It will select and give you an appropriate disguise, and it will not be reverted even if you are physically harmed, until you will it."

"Excellent, please charge all the appropriate costs to my accounts, after deducting your commission of course," Harry spoke as the goblin smirked and nodded.

"Will that be all?" Driftwood asked as Harry replied, "I would like to visit the Black and Potter vaults before leaving."

The goblin nodded, "Of course, besides it will take us at least half an hour to procure your items, this way please," the goblin finished as it led Harry to the carts. Harry first decided to visit the Potter Vaults. As he was moving inside the vault, his attention was drawn by a single book placed in a very large bookshelf. That piqued his interest, for a single book to be placed here, meant that his ancestors had deemed it of great value. Curious, he picked it up. It was titled _'The Book of Speech', will allow you to read and speak every language ever spoken in the world, by Antioch Peverell'_.

"Sounds useful," Harry decided on the spot, even as he placed it in his bag.

Soon afterwards, he entered the Black vaults. The atmosphere inside was rather grim, and he noticed many dark artifacts. As he was wandering, he noticed a ring being kept in a stone basin. The ring was plain and unadorned, and as Harry removed it, he felt an odd sensation which compelled him to wear it. As he wore the ring, a parchment appeared in the basin. Harry picked it up.

_The Ring of Ignorance, as long as the wearer wears this ring, no one will be able to notice the wearer, and it will allow him to effectively blend in the surroundings unnoticed; only if the wearer does something truly magically aggressive will he be noticed._

Harry smirked and put it on. Soon, he left the vaults and went back to Driftwood's office.

"Well Mr. Potter, all your documents are ready. All you have to do is sign in the passport with whatever name you want, and then if you put on the earring, you can get your desired disguise. Remember, this disguise will stay on as long as you are wearing the earring. Have a good day, it has been a pleasure doing business with you," the goblin spoke as he handed over a large pouch to Harry.

Harry nodded and left the building. As soon as he was out of the office, Harry put on the earring and willed upon a disguise. Soon, he felt his body change as he grew taller. Harry had chosen to be a 27 year old Caucasian male with brunette colored hair, and black eyes, with a lithe and athletic physique. He flexed his new arms and eyed himself appreciatively in the mirror. Goblins sure did work fast.

Next, he took the passport out, and after a few minutes of deliberation he signed in with a name. He had chosen the name of Dudley's favorite computer game character. He smirked and looked at the passport as his new face appeared in the picture.

Afterwards, in Diagon alley, he bought a multi-compartmented trunk similar to Moody's trunk and shrunk it. Now, all he needed was the other stuff; he would have to make a few inquiries for that.

* * *

_**Back to the present,**_

* * *

As Harry waited in the ministry at the portkey office, he noticed amusedly as many people went past him and didn't even spare him a glance. Soon, it was his turn, and he took his portkey and got ready to go to his destination. Moscow.

Ever since he had been a child, Harry had been forced to see Dudley be taken on trips to many different places, while he was left behind as his cousin gloated about it. However, Dudley had never gone to a foreign country before, and Harry rued the fact that he was not able to gloat about it in return in front of his relatives. He sighed. One can't always have everything.

Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that he didn't fall down to the ground as the portkey stopped.

"Welcome to Moscow, sir," a man in a strange uniform greeted him with a smile.

Slowly recomposing himself, Harry looked over to see a blond man in an odd uniform, "Hello."

"Name?"

"_Payne, Max Payne_."

"Papers?" The man held out his hand expectantly.

"Oh, just a moment," Harry stalled as he brought out his passport.

"Thank you Sir," the man carefully took the small booklet out of Harry's hands and began examining it, "This seems to be in order."

"Thanks," Harry replied eloquently.

"No need," the man stamped several pages in the small book.

Harry took his Passport back and asked, "Could you recommend a good place to stay?"

"Sure, talk to the girl at the information desk and she will give you a brochure of all the hotels in the city."

"Thanks," Harry nodded to the man, "and have a good day."

"You as well Mr. Payne," the Customs Agent gave him one last grin before waving him through the gates.

That night, in his suite in The Savoy, Harry brought out the brochure and began to read.

* * *

_The city of Moscow is named after the river (Old Russian: гра́д Моско́в, literally "the city by the Moskva River"). The origin of the name is unknown, although several theories exist. One theory suggests that the source of the name is an ancient Finnish language, in which it means "dark" and "turbid". The first Russian reference to Moscow dates from 1147 when Yuri Dolgoruki called upon the prince of the Novgorod Republic to "come to me, brother, to Moscow."_

_Nine years later, in 1156, Prince Yuri Dolgoruki of Rostov ordered the construction of a wooden wall, which had to be rebuilt multiple times, to surround the emerging city. After the sacking of 1237–1238, when the Mongols burned the city to the ground and killed its inhabitants, Moscow recovered and became the capital of the independent Vladimir-Suzdal principality in 1327. Its favorable position on the headwaters of the Volga River contributed to steady expansion. Moscow developed into a stable and prosperous principality, known as Grand Duchy of Moscow, for many years and attracted a large number of refugees from across Russia._

_Wizarding Moscow came into existence in 1214, when a hamlet of Tatar magical families decided to settle in the little principality. Over the years, the wizarding population flourished and as of today, Moscow is the biggest wizarding center in the east. Most Notable Russian magical figures include of course, Rasputin, Peter the Great, and the duchess Voroshin._

* * *

He sighed, and placed it aside and brought out another manual for one of his other purchases. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use this particular item.

* * *

_The Sig P250 Compact Digital Camo_

_The P250® is a modular pistol that allows the shooter to change caliber and size at will... The SIG SAUER® P250 was designed specifically to address the future needs of the military, law enforcement, and civilian shooters around the world. The P250 will be available in the most popular calibers (9mm, .357SIG, .40S&W and .45ACP). The P250's innovative design enables the shooter to quickly remove the functional mechanism and place it into the polymer grip of his choice. This allows an immediate change in caliber and size ;( subcompact, compact and full). And after any change the pistol delivers both outstanding accuracy and reliable functionality. Its modularity not only provides incredible ease of maintenance, but also provides a solution for accommodating different hand sizes - there are 6 different ergonomic combinations for each size, accomplished by changes in grip circumference and trigger style. Now you can own the world's only modular shooting system globally engineered to deliver the "To-Hell -And-Back-Reliability" you've come to expect from Sig Sauer._

* * *

Harry carefully placed the brochure down and brought the actual thing out. While, he was necessarily not a fan of guns, he had recently come to realize something. Wizards were woefully ignorant of muggle weaponry, and in case he ever found himself in a position like that of the graveyard again, this weapon would significantly change things. That was why he now carried a virtual armory in his trunk, ranging from pistols, rifles, submachine guns to Assault rifles. It had even helped that he had joined a shooting ranch run by an ex army officer near Surrey, during his enforced stay at the Dursley's for five months after Sirius's death. Imagining Bellatrix's face on the target sheet's had done wonders in improving his aim and accuracy as well.

He carefully placed the pistol in his palm. It was just 7 inches in length and weighed around 25 oz. He also had three 15 round mags, and a Nielsen suppressor, which reduced noise and flash by 35 percent. He carefully studied the manual and loaded the magazines and inserted one into the polymer grip, and loaded a round into the chamber. He smirked as he placed it into the shoulder holster he had brought, and finally went to sleep.

* * *

Next morning, after he finished his breakfast, he picked out the brochure and began glancing at places to visit, when a place caught his eye.

He went outside and hailed a cab.

"Tretyakov Gallery," he told the driver as he leaned back in his seat taking in the sights, while the driver began to drive.

He brought out the brochure and began to read in detail.

* * *

_One of the most notable art museums in Moscow is the Tretyakov Gallery, which was founded by Pavel Tretyakov, a wealthy patron of the arts who donated a large private collection to the city. The Tretyakov Gallery is split into two buildings. The Old Tretyakov gallery, the original gallery in the Tretyakovskaya area on the south bank of the Moskva River, houses the works of the classic Russian tradition. The works of famous pre-Revolutionary painters, such as Ilya Repin, as well as the works of early Russian icon painters can be found in the Old Tretyakov Gallery. Visitors can even see rare originals by early-fifteenth century iconographer Andrei Rublev. The New Tretyakov gallery, created in Soviet times, mainly contains the works of Soviet artists, as well as of a few contemporary artists, but there is some overlap with the Old Tretyakov Gallery for early twentieth century art. The new gallery includes a small reconstruction of Vladimir Tatlin's famous Monument to the Third International and a mixture of other avant-garde works by artists like Kazimir Malevich and Wassily Kandinsky. Socialist realism features can also be found within the halls of the New Tretyakov Gallery._

* * *

As they neared the gallery, Harry went to buy a ticket when the booth operator looked at him, and asked quietly, "magical or non-magical section?"

"How did you know?" Harry asked dumbfounded.

"Ask no questions and I shall tell you no lies," the man spoke as Harry gaped at him.

"Heh, always wanted to say that. There are charms on this place, which let us know who are magical and who are not of course," the man grinned as Harry nodded.

"Magical section," Harry spoke and the man nodded and gave him a ticket.

"Entrance is at the third corridor from the left," he informed Harry as Harry left after thanking him.

Harry immensely enjoyed himself. The Russian magical portraits were drawn in a style which radically clashed with the ones he had seen at Hogwarts. He took his time wandering around until lunch time.

As he was leaving, he asked the man at the ticketing booth, "Any good places to eat around here?"

The man nodded, "Take the 253rd street, it is the entrance to the Moscow Magical center, you will find a lot of good restaurants there."

Harry gave him the thumbs-up and left.

* * *

Soon, he entered the magical section and stood entranced at what he saw. Diagon alley looked like a village street compared to this place. He entered a regal looking café, and took his place as a smiling waitress came and gave him the menu.

Harry ordered a cup of tea, and the famous Russian pancakes known as Blini.

As he finished his lunch, Harry made his way to the washroom. On his way, he tripped on a loose tile, and crashed into an old man causing him to drop his bowl of soup. After he profusely apologized, the old man assured him that it was no serious matter and Harry left. Afterwards, as the Old man turned, he froze as he saw that the spilt soup was burning a hole in the tile. His eyes hardened.

When Harry left the café, he didn't notice that he was being tailed.

That evening in the magical section of the Kremlin, the old man sat in his office as his aide made his report.

"We have identified him as Max Payne. He has come here from Britain, and is a tourist, and is currently staying at the Savoy."

"Did Forensics identify what was in that soup?"

"Yes Comrade Director, it was a newly designed variant of a Batrachotoxin, more commonly known as BTX, a rare form of muggle toxin used in food poisoning to which there is currently no effective antidote," the aide made his report.

"Has the team met any success in identifying the perpetrators?"

"We have taken the cook into custody, and he is at Lefortovo, and he will talk," the aide spoke with a grin.

The old man grinned. No matter whom they were, people always talked when they were taken to Lefortovo prison.

"Could Payne have known about this, and done it on purpose? And if so, why?" the old man asked quietly.

"We have checked Payne and his name has not come across any of our searches. If he is what you suspect he is, then he is definitely a good one," the aide replied quietly.

"Continue surveillance on Payne, the assassins might try to attack him in retribution for their failure, and we can identify who they are if they actually attempt it," the director ordered.

The aide nodded as he watched the second most powerful man in Magical Russia walk out. He pitied the men who had tried to kill the director of the MSB (Magical Security Bureau, the magical counterpart of the KGB); because suicide would be preferable than capture in this case.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a certain building, a man was glaring at his subordinates.

"How is it that we failed? It took 4 months to set this up, and you tell me it was foiled in a casual accident? I think not," he glared as his men withered under his glare.

"You have identified who he is?" he asked his men.

"Da, his name is Payne, he is a British tourist. He is staying in the Savoy."

"Take 5 men, and make sure he sleeps with the fishes tonight. No one messes with us," the leader ordered his men.

* * *

That night, as Harry was eating his dinner in his room, suddenly the door of his room splintered and five men crashed in. Harry did not waste a moment, and instantly dived to the side of his bed as at least 5 reductor curses hit his dining table and pulverized it.

He reached into his rucksack and in a smooth flow, pulled out the Sig Pistol and fired a straight shot into the forehead of the man nearest to him, killing him instantly with his left hand, while he drew his wand out with his right. As the attackers stared in horror and shock, Harry took aim and fired another round at another one. The man fell screaming as he clutched his chest. Two of the slugs had ruptured his lungs. He was toast.

The remaining men began to fire killing curses and Harry rolled away as they hit the cot and set it on fire. He instantly took aim and fired a disarming charm at another man, and as his wand flew out his grasp, he fired a round into his knees. The man screamed and sank down.

Harry eyed the last two men and spoke, "I don't know who you are. I have no intention of killing you. Drop your wand and I will spare your life." For his troubles, he was rewarded with another barrage of killing curses. He ducked as the curses sailed over his head and shattered the window behind him. He instantly yelled, "Accio," and to the immense horror of the attackers, the man nearest to Harry was pulled forward and as Harry ducked, he was thrown out of the window which unfortunately for him was on the 43rd floor. The last standing attacker was now shaking in his boots as he eyed the man he was supposed to kill. This was so wrong, he was a goddamn tourist, and this was not supposed to happen!

He screamed as he fired another barrage of spells and at the same time drew a knife and charged forward. Harry fired a shot at his wand hand which shattered that particular wrist, and the man screamed and sank down as numerous figures apparated in.

"MSB, stoi (Russian for halt), Keep your wand down and surrender," the leader shouted as a number of Russian magical law enforcement personnel stormed in, wands drawn.

"Mister Payne, the director would like to speak with you," the leader spoke in a stereotypical Russian accent popularized in the movies as he eyed the mess.

Harry who was still steadying himself from the adrenalin rush grunted and nodded his assent.

"Do you require medical assistance, sir?" Another man asked and Harry shook his head in reply.

After some minutes, Harry left with a member of the MSB through a portkey after gathering all his belongings.

After Harry left, the leader turned to his men, "Get the coroner in here, and tell him to bring a mop, God, what fucking messes; and you, take these two pieces of shit to Lefortovo, and not too gently, mind you," the leader barked his orders as his men ran to obey them, he watched as his men roughly picked up the screaming survivors while he lit a cigarette shaking his head at the mess.

* * *

As Harry apparated downstairs to the foyer of the hotel, he was surprised to see the old man he had bumped into in the café in the early morning, sitting at a table waiting for him. His companion guided him towards the table, while the surrounding area was mysteriously empty.

As Harry approached the table, the old man stood up, "Greetings, Mr. Payne, I am Boris Grishenko, the director of the MSB for the Soviet Wizarding Union."

Harry shook his hand and muttered, "I thought the Soviet Union broke up?"

The old man smiled, "The Non-magical one did of course, but the wizarding version remains intact."

Harry shook his head. He really should have paid more attention to classes in History of Magic.

"Mr. Payne, I would like to thank you for saving my life. I owe you a debt, and I am deeply grateful to you for that, and I hope that I can repay you one day, although hopefully not in the same manner," the old man spoke formally as he bowed deeply.

Harry was stunned. "What do you mean? When did I save your life? What is going on here?" he asked clearly getting flustered.

The Old man carefully eyed Harry's reactions as he replied, "That accidental bump which you had with me in the café this morning, remember it?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, but what has it got to do with this?"

"Apparently, the bowl of soup which you caused me to drop contained a high concentration of poison, and it seems it was an attempt to assassinate me," the old man smirked.

As he watched Harry's face show shock, the old man laughed.

"I saved your life by accident?" Harry asked in a strangled voice and the old man nodded.

"Then, why did those men attack me? I am just a tourist!" he exclaimed in shock and annoyance.

"It would seem that the assassins did not take kindly to your interference," the old man spoke with a poker face.

Harry exploded, "That is ridiculous. It was an accident. I have nothing to do with this. This was supposed to be a vacation, Damn it!"

Grishenko smiled, "Come Mr. Payne, Please follow me. We have prepared one of our safe-houses as a temporary residence for you, and from now on, you will be under our protection, at least until this situation is resolved, because I doubt that the criminals will stop at this juncture, and for both our sakes I hope you will accept" the head of the MSB finished quietly.

Harry sat down dejectedly, "I don't know, I mean this was not supposed to happen. This was my vacation, I just wanted to travel and see the world, maybe it would be better if I just left Russia," he spoke in a dead voice and got up.

Grishenko immediately stopped him, "That would be most unwise, you are now in the sights of those criminals, and they will not leave you alone. I suggest you stay as our guest, at least until this issue is resolved," the old man insisted.

Harry looked at the old man and after seeing his serious face, acquiesced. Boris nodded with satisfaction.

"Excellent. Please follow me."

As Harry and Boris walked out, Harry was surprised to see what awaited them. In front of them was a huge, white colored Mercedes 600, the big one with the S-Class body and twelve cylinders of German power under the hood. (Harry was a huge buff of cars, it was the only thing he had shared with Dudley, when they had been young.)

As he saw Harry's raised eyebrows, Boris spoke out, "We are not as insular in thinking as your people, Mr. Payne. The British wizards, for all their sophistication and blustering are woefully ignorant of the benefits Human technology and innovations can bring to our kind."

Harry nodded. He would not dispute that.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"To my office in Dzerzhinsky square," the old man replied as both of them got inside the car.

Harry became silent. He knew the historical value of the place they were going to visit, at least the muggle version of it. He had learned about that place in grade school, because it was once upon a time the most feared place in the world.

He remembered what he had read about it.

* * *

_The Lubyanka is the popular name for the headquarters of the KGB and affiliated prison on Lubyanka Square in Moscow. It is a large building with a facade of yellow brick, designed by Alexander V. Ivanov in 1897 and augmented by Aleksey Shchusev in 1940-1947._

_The Lubyanka was originally built in 1898 as the Neo-Baroque headquarters of the All-Russia Insurance Company, noted for its beautiful parquet floors and pale green walls. Belying its massiveness, the edifice avoids an impression of heroic scale: isolated Palladian and Baroque details, such as the minute pediments over the corner bays and the central loggia, are lost in an endlessly-repeating classicizing palace facade, where three bands of cornices emphasize the horizontal lines. A clock is centered in the uppermost band of the facade._

_Following the Bolshevik Revolution, the structure was seized by the government for the headquarters of the secret police, then called the Cheka. In Soviet Russian jokes it was referred to as the tallest building in Moscow, since Siberia could be seen from its basement._

_Although the Soviet secret police changed its name many times, its headquarters remained in this building. Secret police chiefs from Lavrenty Beria to Yuri Andropov used the same office on the third floor, which looked down on the statue of Cheka founder Felix Dzerzhinsky. A prison at the ground floor of the building figures prominently in Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's classic study of the Soviet police state, The Gulag Archipelago. Famous inmates held, tortured and interrogated there include Sidney Reilly, Raoul Wallenberg, János Esterházy and Father Walter Ciszek, S.J._

_After the dissolution of the KGB, the Lubyanka became the headquarters of the Border Guard Service of Russia, and houses the Lubyanka prison and one directorate of the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation (FSB). In addition a museum of the KGB was opened to the public._

* * *

Boris Grishenko calmly eyed the young man sitting next to him. As a man who was used to people cowering in fear in front of him, this was decidedly, an unusual situation. This young man had saved his life, however, at the same time; he didn't seem to have grasped the importance of what being seen with the director of the MSB would do to him in the long run. To be seen with Boris Grishenko in public would result in every intelligence agency of every wizarding government shadowing him for the rest of his life. But he didn't seem to care. That more than anything else cemented the old man's suspicions about the true nature of his guest.

When they were only a kilometer away from Dzerzhinsky square, Harry turned to Boris, "Could you please stop for a minute, my stomach feels queasy," he really did look queasy.

Boris nodded, and as the car stopped, Harry got out and went to a corner and puked his guts out. After cleaning himself, Harry got back in.

"Sorry, I guess it is finally catching up to me, about what happened to me," he smiled apologetically as Boris grinned.

Boris turned to his driver, "Ivan, why are you not moving forward?"

The driver replied, "It seems that the person next to us wishes to move forward first, comrade director."

Boris turned to his right to look out of the window and saw what was going on. The other car in front of them caught his eye. It was another Mercedes S-class, iceberg white just like his own, complete down to the dark plastic on the windows. It was driving purposefully in the bright morning, as Ivan slowed and pulled behind a dump truck, one of many such large ugly vehicles that covered the streets of Moscow like a dominant life-form, loaded with crates instead of earth. There was yet, another truck in front of them whose driver was driving slowly as though he was unsure of his path. Boris leaned back on his seat with a sigh, while Harry laughed lightly.

Suddenly, Boris jerked upright.

* * *

…_the distant dump truck. A man had been lying in the back. Now, he rose, and he was holding_…

"Ivan!" Boris said sharply, but his driver couldn't see around the truck to his immediate front.

…_it was an RPG, a muggle weapon with a slender pipe and a bulbous end. The sighting bar was up, and as the distant truck was now stopped, the man came up to one knee and turned, aiming his weapon at the other white Benz_-

-_the other driver saw it and tried to swerve, but found his way blocked by the morning traffic and-_

_-not much in the way of visual signature, just a thin puff of smoke from the rear of the launcher-tube, but the bulbous part leapt off and streaked into the hood of the other white Mercedes, and there it exploded._

_It hit just short of the windshield. The explosion wasn't the fireball so beloved of movies, just a muted flash and gray smoke, but the sound roared across the area jerking everyone alert, and a wide, flat, jagged hole blew out of the trunk of the car, and that meant anyone inside the vehicle would now be dead, Grishenko knew without pausing to think about it. Then, the gasoline ignited, and the car burned, along with a few square meters of asphalt._

The Mercedes stopped almost at once, its left-side tires shredded and flattened by the explosion. The dump truck in front of Boris's car panic stopped, and Ivan swerved right, his eyes narrowed by the noise, but not yet,

* * *

"My God," Now that Ivan could clearly see what had happened, he instantly took action. He pushed a button on one of the panels in front of him and instantly the car portkeyed itself to its destination. The armed guards there were already out with wands drawn, along with the supplementary response force from the barracks inside the building. The commander of the group instantly raced towards the car. Boris stepped out, followed by Harry, and four young guards formed up in physical contact with the two. Ivan stepped out, too, his wand in his hand and his coat open, looking around with suddenly anxious eyes. He barked out orders rapidly.

"Get them inside!" And with that order, the guards strong-armed the two through the double bronze doors, while more security troops were arriving on spot.

A minute later, they stumbled into the director's office, with their brains just catching up with what they had seen three minutes ago. Boris walked to the window to see what was happening outside while Harry dropped down inelegantly on a nearby chair.

Moscow police – the muggle police – called militiamen in Russia, were racing to the scene, a couple on foot, while the Russian magical law enforcement personnel stood hidden watching the proceedings with a gimlet eye. Three motorists had left their vehicles and approached the burning vehicle, perhaps hoping to render assistance. Brave of them, Boris thought, but an entirely useless effort. He could see better now, even from three hundred meters away. The top had bulged up. The windshield was gone, and he looked into a smoking hole, which had minutes before been a hugely expensive vehicle, and which had been destroyed by one of the cheapest weapons the muggle soviet army had ever mass-produced. Whoever had been inside had been shredded instantly by metal fragments traveling at nearly ten thousand meters per second. Had they even known what had happened? Probably not, perhaps the driver had had time to look and wonder, but the owner in the back would have been completely oblivious, before his life had ended without warning.

Suddenly, his knees went weak. That could have been him… but they had hit the other car. He did not believe in coincidences, after all, how many could own a same car like that, not even regarding the fact that that car had belonged to a non-magical being.

As chairman of the MSB, Boris Grishenko was not a man unaccustomed to violence. If Payne had not stopped to puke…his mind immediately did a full turn. Payne. He had asked the car to be stopped to relieve his stomach, and at that exact moment, a car similar to his had overtaken them and had been eliminated afterwards.

Just what had transpired here, he wondered as he eyed his guest. He would have to watch this tourist more closely. After all, the boy had been unusually quiet, and after such an ordeal, people usually tended to go into histrionics, but his guest was silent and sipping tea as if such events occurred around him daily. No, something was quite off about the enigmatic Max Payne.

"Ivan?"

"Yes, comrade director?"

"We need to find out who died there, and then find out if it was supposed to be us instead. Call militia headquarters and see what they are doing. And have a team escort Mr. Payne to the safe-house."

"I will see you afterwards, Mr. Payne, unfortunately, as you can see, I will be quite busy for some time. Thank you for your co-operation."

Harry shrugged and gave a grim smile and walked out as Ivan held the door open for him.

As soon as Harry walked out, Grishenko muttered coldly, "Double the surveillance on him, and find out who he really is, and if he was involved in what happened today."

"At once," Ivan nodded as he apparated away.

* * *

That evening as Harry was reading a local magazine, the doorbell rang.

"Come in, it is open."

Harry turned around to see a young woman, around 24 to 26 years old, walk in. she had red hair and was wearing a tight leather bodysuit, which showed off her curves. She was he noted, rather attractive.

"Good evening, Mr. Payne, I am Natalya Fedorova, your liaison officer. I am here to inspect your security. I hope you are having no trouble in adjusting," she spoke in a pronounced Russian accent.

"Of course not, however, I do hope that you have come to tell me that this matter has been resolved, I am rather keen to continue my vacation," Harry replied in perfect St. Petersburg accented Russian.

Natalya's eyebrows rose, "I wasn't aware that you could speak Russian so fluently, Mr. Payne," she replied as she looked at him appraisingly.

Harry shrugged.

"When in Rome, Be a Roman," he smirked.

She grinned, "Indeed," however her mind was racing. This was not known, how does he know our language so well? He is definitely not what he seems.

Harry meanwhile was glad that he had performed the language translator and automatic speech spell for all spoken languages from Antioch Peverell's book. He had been bored out of his mind and all the reading material present in the safe house was in Russian.

"Please sit down," Harry motioned and Natalya sat down.

"Mr. Payne, I would like to ask you few questions, for formality of course, I hope you don't mind?" she asked as she crossed her legs.

Harry shook his head, but became more wary. He quietly lauded the old man's plan. After all, having a beautiful woman interrogate you while wearing such a tantalizing outfit would make almost any man talk. This method had been proven over the ages. He smirked. This woman was probably chosen for that purpose. It reminded him of the James Bond movies he used to watch, only difference being that he wasn't James Bond.

"Go ahead," he spoke as the woman nodded.

"You are a resident of Britain, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"What is your current occupation?"

"I am unemployed."

Her eyebrows rose further.

"Have you ever worked for the British magical government in any form?"

"No."

"Have you ever received any form of formal military training?"

"No."

She stopped as she looked at him incredulously.

"But…then…how did…," she stammered as she looked at the man.

"Mr. Payne, forgive me, but the way in which you dealt with the assassins who came to attack you, clearly indicates that you have some training in such skills," she continued in a rather accusatory tone.

"I apologize. I must have spoken with more clarity. I have not received any formal training as such, yes, but, I have trained myself, all my skills are self-ingrained. My personal life made it necessary for me to learn such skills," he spoke quietly.

Natalya was stunned.

"Impossible, the level of skill that you showed is present only in the most battle hardened veterans, how…," she began when Harry raised his hand.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean for this to be known. I will just say this. My father was a law enforcement officer. He however, made himself some very dangerous enemies in his line of work, and when his presence became too great a danger for them, they assassinated, no, murdered my family, and I was left as the lone survivor. However, with such people their sense of vengeance is not completed until they have eliminated every member of their enemy's family. I am sure you understand that. My sense of self-preservation necessitated my learning these skills. That is all I am willing to say. And I would appreciate it, if this was kept under wraps," he spoke quietly as he looked her squarely in the eye.

"O…Of course…," she stammered.

"Now, Ms. Natalya, could you please tell me, how long this will take, and how much longer will I be forced to impose upon your generosity?"

"I frankly do not know…," she spoke apologetically.

"If I may ask, can you tell me at least who is behind all this? I think I have at least earned the right to know who is trying to take my life."

Natalya sighed.

"Very well. Currently, the Magical Soviet Union is facing a major threat from an organized crime syndicate. They are a magical version of the Mafia, you could say. They have slowly been encroaching upon our nation. They are trying to muscle their way in into the government, but their efforts have been unsuccessful thanks largely to the efforts of the MSB and the director. We suspect that, that is why they tried to assassinate the director, and since you inadvertently foiled their only chance, they are rather angry with you as well."

"So that explains why Mr. Grishenko is in such a major problem," Harry mused.

"Indeed, the director is the only man standing in their way, if he were to be removed, I am sure that everything will be lost," she sighed.

"Surely, your government can't be that ineffective," Harry pointed out.

Natalya shook her head, "You do not understand, many members of the government are on their payroll, only the director's efforts are keeping them out of complete subversion of the government."

"I see. Could you tell me who the man who heads this syndicate is?"

Natalya nodded and took out a set of photographs from a folder inside her bag.

She placed a set of photographs on the table. All of them showed a heavyset man who was chomping on a cigar in most of them. He had a decidedly unpleasant face. In most of the pictures, a bunch of Killer-suits (bodyguards who wear tuxedos; gentlemen killers if you must know) surrounded him.

"This is Mikhail Petrov. He is the head of the crime syndicate and the man who is trying to do his utmost to kill the director. He has his hand in every sort of crime you can name, gambling, drugs, extortion, smuggling, prostitution, you name it, and he does it. And he is the one who has also put a hit out on you," she shrugged.

Harry's eyes nodded.

"I see. If you don't mind, can you tell me where this person might be located?"

She looked at him with a smirk. "Mr. Payne, if you are thinking, what I think you are thinking, then forget it. His security is tighter than the security provided to even our president."

"Of course not, I was merely curious," Harry shrugged.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. His residence is in the Blue Lagoon Casino, which he owns."

"I see. Well, thank you for everything Ms. Fedorova. This has been most informative," Harry replied as she got up.

"Well, I will see you tomorrow at the same time tomorrow Mr. Payne, thank you for your time," she nodded and left. She had a report to make.

That night, Harry opened his trunk and went into the 4th hidden compartment of his trunk. He brought out a certain set of equipment from the cabinet in the compartment and sat to work.

* * *

_C-4 or Composition 4 is a common variety of military plastic explosive. C-4 is made up of explosives, plastic binder, plasticizer and, usually, marker or taggant chemicals such as 2, 3-dimethyl-2, 3-dinitrobutane (DMDNB) to help detect the explosive and identify its source._

_A major advantage of C-4 is that it can easily be molded into any desired shape. C-4 can be pressed into gaps, cracks and voids in buildings, bridges, equipment or machinery. Similarly, it can easily be inserted into empty shaped-charge cases of the type used by military engineers._

_C-4 is very stable and insensitive to most physical shocks. Detonation can only be initiated by a combination of extreme heat and a shockwave, as when a detonator inserted into it is fired. C4 cannot be detonated by a gunshot or by dropping it onto a hard surface._

_C-4 is very stable and insensitive to most physical shocks. Detonation can only be initiated by a combination of extreme heat and a shockwave, as when a detonator inserted into it is fired. C4 cannot be detonated by a gunshot or by dropping it onto a hard surface._

* * *

Harry worked all night, looking at Jane's weapons encyclopedia and followed the instructions. After 3 hours, he finished his work, and looked at his product. 20 pounds of C-4, compressed by the usage of a shrinking charm and consisting of a heat sensor to detonate automatically at a certain degree of heat. All in all, it was an impressive piece of work for a dumb amateur like him (but hey, all geniuses were amateurs at first right until they succeeded), 20 pounds of C-4 compressed into the size of a marble. Afterwards, by using a simple transfiguration charm, he transfigured it into a cigar.

However, Harry being the amateur he was, didn't realize one thing; when an explosive is compressed in such a small containment device its explosive power is multiplied by a factor of ten. And with 20 pounds of C-4, its explosive power was now magnified at least tenfold.

Harry was wondering how to deliver his little present to Mr. Petrov without leaving the confines of the safe house when a brilliant stroke of thought occurred to him.

* * *

_**Next Morning,**_

* * *

"Shit, what a mess! Why the fuck do we have to spend our time watching this place?" Ivan grumbled as he eyed the Blue Lagoon casino from the adjacent building. Behind him, an assortment of people were monitoring all sorts of spells, eavesdropping spells, visual aid spells etc.

"We do it, because we are ordered to, Ivan," Natalya spoke stiffly as she brought out her binoculars and zoomed in on the terrace of the casino where Mikhail Petrov was hosting a party.

She zoomed in on Mikhail Petrov, who brought out a cigar and began to light it.

As she zoomed in, the man placed his lighter to the tip of the cigar, and then the world exploded.

As the amazed secret service people watched, the entire terrace of the casino was engulfed by a bright flash as a roaring inferno emerged and blanketed the entire terrace. Screams could be heard from everywhere as the entire terrace was engulfed by a towering flame which rose to the heights above and beyond 20 meters. It needed not to be said that everyone who was on the terrace was toast.

"Mother of God!"

"What happened? What the fuck happened?"

"Jesus! Did you see that?"

Natalya came out of her stupor and began to bark orders, "You, call the muggle fire department. You and you, call the Obliviation department. I want the list of names of every damn person who was on that terrace ASAP. Move!"

As the frazzled men ran out, Natalya turned to look towards Ivan who shrugged, "Guess this war against the mafia is over. Damn, I hate to say it, but it couldn't have happened to nicer people."

"Come on, the director needs to hear this," she spoke as they both apparated away.

* * *

As they entered the office of Boris Grishenko, the old man looked at them.

"What happened?"

"The surveillance operation had to be terminated, comrade director," Ivan spoke stiffly as he saluted.

The old man looked at his bodyguard and his deputy incredulously.

"Natalya, care to elaborate," he asked quietly.

"It would be better, if you saw what happened yourself, comrade director," she spoke as she brought out the surveillance tape and walked towards the TV and Video player at the corner.

As the old man watched, his eyebrows rose and rose until they disappeared in his forehead.

"I see," he spoke in a strained voice. "Under the circumstances I suppose it is acceptable," he grinned wanly.

He had reason to be happy. More than 85 percent of the Mafia leadership had been present at that terrace.

"Who do you think is responsible is this?" he asked his two subordinates.

Both of them shrugged.

"Could our guest have anything to do with this?" He asked quietly.

Natalya immediately shook her head.

"Nyet. We have been monitoring him very carefully. He has not even left the house, nor has he communicated with anyone in any form."

"But, considering his background which he revealed to you, I wonder," the old man mused as the two remained silently.

"Let us review once more what we know of our Mr. Payne," the director ordered.

"He is a British tourist, who has come here for a vacation by his own admission," Ivan stated.

"Yes, and on the 2nd day of his arrival, he foiled an assassination attempt on you, not to mention another attempt on him the same night," Natalya continued.

"Then, the very next morning, he again saved your life," Ivan continued.

"By his own admission, he is unemployed, has never worked for the British government, and has no formal military training of any sort," Ivan read from a notepad.

"Yet, the level of skill he displayed in fighting is usually seen only in the most battle hardened veterans. He clearly has experience in this sort of thing," Natalya countered.

"Natalya, what did he tell about his family life?" Boris asked again.

"He states that his father was a law enforcement official. An extremely effective one, so much so that the criminal elements he was pursuing decided to liquidate his family, leaving Payne as the lone survivor. He states that he learnt all these martial skills because of the necessity of self-preservation," she reported.

At that, Boris's eyes widened and then narrowed as his mouth set in a grim smile.

"I see. That explains it."

"I don't understand, comrade director," Natalya spoke.

"Just wait, you will," the old man spoke and lifted the telephone in front of him and spoke for a few seconds.

After a minute, an orderly came in and handed over a folder. As he scanned the documents, Boris's eyes narrowed and a triumphant smile appeared on his face.

"Comrade Director?" Ivan asked quietly.

"This is the list of the victims we have identified as of yet. The coroner tells me that Mr. Petrov was vaporized completely. It is as if he was never there, the coroner reports. However, that isn't the matter of importance here. Look at name 23," Boris suggested.

As they saw the name, the two intelligence officers stiffened.

"Antonin Dolohov! That Swine!" Ivan breathed in surprise while Natalya's eyes widened.

"Exactly! The reason why I ordered surveillance on the casino today was because we suspected that Petrov was trying to broker a deal with the British Dark Lord Voldemort. And Dolohov happens to be his Russian liaison."

"So, we have a British tourist, who has a grudge against criminals … by his own admission; who then comes into Russia. He then saves me, the director of MSB, who is the main obstacle of the Russian organized crime syndicates; and at the same time, the crime lord we are observing is meeting with a major British criminal, and then all of them are blown to kingdom come. Does that make it clear to you, Natalya and Ivan?"

The two took a deep breath.

"But, he didn't even leave the safe house," Ivan protested.

"He is obviously very skilled. He actually made us do his work for him. We sent Natalya to interrogate him to find out who he is, and he instead subtly interrogated her, and we didn't even realize it! Don't you find it an odd coincidence that the very next day after you revealed what you know about Petrov to Payne, Petrov and his ilk get blown up? Clearly, we have underestimated this man, he is definitely not a tourist, and we can't even hold him here legally to find out more, because there is not even a shred of evidence against him!" Boris banged his fist on the desk in admiration.

"What I wouldn't give to have someone like him work for me!" he added wistfully.

Natalya was fuming. She had been played and she had not even realized it. Ivan was smirking at the discomfort he saw on her face.

"What do we do with him?" Ivan asked his boss carefully.

"Let him go of course," Boris spoke casually. They all knew that it meant follow him wherever he goes from now on.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the same time in the safe house, Harry was talking to somebody in the compartment of his trunk.

"_**Thank you for your help, Dobby**_," Harry smirked as the excited house elf bowed.

"Dobby is pleased to be helping Harry Potter Sir! Please call Dobby again when you need me to make such deliveries again, Harry Potter Sir," the house elf bowed with tears in his eyes and apparated away while Harry smirked.

As he came out of his trunk, the doorbell rang again.

"Come in,"

He watched as both Ivan and Natalya came in.

"What can I do for you, officers?" he asked politely as the two looked at each other.

"Mr. Payne, we are here to inform you that the threat against you is now over, and you are now free to continue your vacation," Ivan spoke quietly while Natalya watched closely for any reactions.

"Really? That is a surprise," Harry spoke. Surprise was evident in his eyes.

"Can I at least know what happened?" he asked casually.

"Sure. We were monitoring Mr. Petrov at his casino, when suddenly a huge explosion occurred destroying the entire casino. More than 300 people are dead, including Mr. Petrov. With this, at least 85 percent of the top leadership of the mafia has been eliminated. The cause for the explosion is as of yet unknown," Ivan shrugged.

"I see," Harry spoke coolly, "Can't say I am sorry, but couldn't have happened to nicer people," he shrugged as Ivan laughed.

"That is what I said as well," Ivan replied with a grin.

"I suppose it is a small world," Harry grinned back.

"Among the dead are some British criminals as well, however, the most important one we have identified is an Antonin Dolohov. He is a known accomplice of the dark lord who is operating in Britain," Natalya suddenly spoke.

Harry's eyes widened, "Dolohov, here?" he asked as he turned quickly to face the two.

"You know him?" Ivan asked quietly seeing Harry's reaction.

"We have met, although I regret to say in less than cordial situations," Harry replied coolly.

"I see," Ivan muttered as he looked at Natalya.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Natalya asked carefully.

"Well, as you are aware, the dark lord and his supporters attack public places as a way of terrorizing the public in Britain. We met in such a situation. He critically injured one of my friends in an attack on a shopping center and market place called Diagon Alley. Apart from that, I don't know anything about the man, except that I saw him that day during the attack," Harry shrugged while continuing to pack.

"I see. That explains it," Ivan spoke quietly while Natalya nodded.

_More than we care to know, a tourist eh? Not bad, not bad at all, Mr. Payne, and Dolohov happened to travel to Russia at the same time too, not a bad coincidence either, wouldn't you say?_ Natalya smirked.

"Well then, I suppose, I am free to go then," Harry asked the two who nodded stiffly.

"Excellent, I am all packed and ready, could you take me to the Portkey office?" he asked the two who nodded. Natalya brought out a portkey and all of them portkeyed away.

In the portkey office, Harry straightened up and looked at Ivan, "Could you please direct me to the bathroom please?"

"Sure," Ivan spoke and led him to the bathroom. As he entered the bathroom, Harry noted that Ivan stood guard outside. He had anticipated that. He grinned as he brought out his invisibility cloak and put it on.

He then brought his passport out and tapped it with his wand and changed his name and picture. He then touched the goblin earring on his right ear and changed his appearance to match the new picture in his passport.

He then removed the invisibility cloak and stowed it in his bag and apparated out to the foyer of the portkey office. He then smirked and walked right past Natalya who was staring expectantly at the bathroom door and at Ivan who was beginning to enter the bathroom.

He went to the Portkey officer and presented his passport.

"Name?"

"_Bourne. Jason Bourne_."

"Destination?"

"Tokyo, Japan."

The man studied the passport and then replied, "Everything seems to be in order. Have a safe journey Mr. Bourne," as he handed back the passport and a portkey.

As Harry activated the portkey he turned around to see Ivan rush out of the bathroom frantic and waving at Natalya, "Payne is gone!"

And with a tug, Harry Potter alias Max Payne alias Jason Bourne vanished from Moscow.

* * *

"Lucius, I am most disappointed," Lord Voldemort drawled as he eyed his right hand man who winced at the glare. Voldemort had summoned his inner circle in order to discuss the latest debacle that had occurred at the department of mysteries.

"My lord, I know that I have failed you, and I make no excuses, but it is also true that I have not failed until now, so I implore you, please give me another chance to prove myself," the man spoke quietly.

Voldemort stopped pacing and looked at Lucius, "Indeed, besides even I did not expect Dumbledore to arrive that quickly at that wretched place, besides, as good a wizard as you are, you can never hope to match someone of Dumbledore's caliber, no one can, except me, at least you managed to escape without implicating yourself unlike the other imbeciles, and that is still a proof of your competence, to some degree at least," the dark lord sighed as he sat down.

However, at that moment, another death eater entered and bowed low, "My lord, my deepest apologies, but we have received an urgent communication from our Russian colleagues, and they insist that this message be delivered to you instantly," the man spoke as he bowed low and cringed in fear.

"Ah, so Antonin sends a message, eh? Excellent!" Voldemort spoke as he received the envelope while the death eater immediately scampered away.

As he opened the envelope and looked inside, Voldemort saw something which he had never imagined to be possible.

Suddenly, his magic spiked as he growled and stood up. Instantly, the inner circle members winced and stepped back as Voldemort flung a reductor curse in rage as the desk at the end shattered in a million pieces.

"My lord…," Bellatrix spoke in a meek tone trying to appease him as Voldemort glowered at her, and she instantly cowered.

"It appears that somebody has deemed it fit to assassinate Antonin. This is a direct challenge to me! And as such it will not go unpunished! Severus, find out what the Order knows, and report to me as soon as possible!" the dark lord ordered and Snape quietly bowed and left while the inner circle winced. This was not going to be pretty.

* * *

"**What do you mean, he vanished without a trace?**" Boris Grishenko roared as Natalya and Ivan cringed.

"He went into the bathroom, while I stood guard outside, and when he was late, I went in to check, but he had vanished already, there was no trace of apparition or portkeying, we didn't even find a trace of his magical signature! It was like he didn't even exist!" Ivan threw up his hands in despair.

"And what do you have to say?" he looked at Natalya who replied quietly, "I was standing right next to the clerk, and as I never saw him, we can safely assume that he didn't take a portkey, and we know he couldn't have created one in the safe house. The safe house monitors all spells used, and he has not used a single spell during his entire stay in the safe house; I admit, I am at a loss here, we have never encountered someone like this, I hate to admit it, but he is actually better than us. To manage to elude the two top members of MSB is no small feat," she admitted.

Grishenko became quiet. After a moment, he ordered, "Get a complete list of whoever took a portkey out of the country during that period, and see if anybody on that list has any connections to Payne. There must be a link somewhere, find it!"

"Yes Sir!"

As they left, Grishenko began to write a letter to an old acquaintance of his.

* * *

In the Order meeting that day, things were about to get chaotic.

"Any important news to report today, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked Moody who looked like somebody had given him a lifetime coupon for free beer.

"I will say there is! It was a big day in Mother Russia!" Moody grinned.

"So, something interesting happen then?" Remus asked while Moody smirked.

"You can say that, this is the reason why Arthur, Nymphadora and Kingsley are working overtime at the ministry," Moody replied in a glib tone.

"Stop being so cheerful and tell us," Molly pointed out.

"Sure, even Snape will have heard of it, Antonin Dolohov was killed yesterday in Russia!" Moody replied with a satisfied grin.

"WHAT?"

"IMPOSSIBLE!"

"WHO COULD HAVE….,"

"Silence…," Dumbledore raised his hands and everybody fell silent.

"What do you know Alastor? And Severus, you must know something as well," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yes, he is correct. The dark lord received a message that intimated him of the same details, and he is quiet upset. He has directed me to find out what the Order knows, as well. He is less than pleased, Antonin was handling a major deal in Russia for him," Snape replied wanly.

"Wait a minute, in the Soviet? What could the dark lord want from Russians of all people?" Bill Weasley asked in surprise.

"Not many people know it, but in recent times, the Magical Soviet has been fighting a hostile takeover of their government by a section of Organized crime, who are very powerful, as powerful as the death eaters, if not more. If not for the efforts of the MSB, i.e., the Magical Security Bureau, their equivalent of our Unspeakables, they would have taken over by now," Moody replied somberly.

"So, what happened then?" Fred Weasley asked.

"The head of the MSB is Boris Grishenko, an old acquaintance of mine, and he contacted me yesterday to seek my help in a particular matter, more particularly to help identify someone, someone who he believes to be responsible for this incident," Moody replied.

"So, it was an Englishman who did this? But who is capable of handling someone like Antonin? He is not someone to be taken lightly," Snape pointed out.

"You are missing the point Snape! This man did not kill just Dolohov, but he took out the entire Russian crime syndicate! He killed more than 300 people in one stroke! Granted, most of them were muggles, but there were 30 wizards there as well, at least, according to my information. This is no ordinary man," Moody reiterated.

A quiet silence prevailed.

"Who is it?' Dumbledore asked me quietly.

"Grishenko did not give me any particulars, he just gave me a name and asked for particulars, and when the head of the MSB asks for a name from somebody from another nation, it is pretty serious, and immediately, after such an event, you can connect the dots yourselves," Moody shrugged his shoulders.

"So, who is it then?"

"Payne. Max Payne, that was the name he gave, and no details, but I have some contacts working on it, we will get the full details shortly," Moody shrugged.

"I must admit the name eludes me," Dumbledore admitted.

"Could be a fake…," Remus pointed out.

"Do you intend to ask him to join us, professor?" Fred asked Dumbledore who shook his head.

"No, regardless of who his victims were, I cannot condone manslaughter like this, despite the person's intentions or the results. Besides, for all we know, he could be a criminal himself who was working for the rivals of those Russian criminals. We will try to find out for now who he is, that is all. Severus, inform Voldemort of this name, and find out if anybody on your side, knows this name, and report back," he ordered Snape who nodded, while Moody snorted in the background.

"Now, where is the search for Harry coming to?" Dumbledore spoke as he changed the topic.

* * *

That night, at the meeting, Lord Voldemort turned to Severus, "Severus, what have you found?"

"My lord, I have the name of the man, who the Russian MSB believes to be responsible for the murder of Antonin," Severus reported.

"Excellent! Who is it?"

"His name is Payne, Max Payne, a person from our nation, but apparently, nothing else is known about him, and he seems to be someone of significance, for Boris Grishenko himself is leading the inquiry. Apparently, not only did Payne kill Antonin, but he was also responsible for killing more than 300 members of the Russian criminal syndicate at the same time, of which at least thirty are known to be wizards."

Everybody became silent.

"One man, killed more than 30 wizards? Are you sure you are not mistaken, Severus?" a shocked Lucius asked Snape who shook his head.

"These were the words of Alastor Moody, and in such matters, it is wise to trust him. It seems that all information regarding this matter is being closely held by the MSB, and we all know how dangerous it is to antagonize them," Severus finished.

"Indeed. What did Dumbledore have to say about this? Does he intend to recruit this Payne into the order?" Voldemort asked Snape who shook his head.

"He spoke that he could never condone manslaughter like this, and spoke that, most likely, this Payne is a criminal who is working for the rivals of those Russians and in the ensuing crossfire, Antonin was the unfortunate victim, at least that is what he spoke, but he made it clear that he will not approach this man."

"The old fool! Any man who can kill 30 wizards in a stroke is not to be dismissed, no matter what his allegiances are! Rodolphus, you have connections from your family side in Russia, find out this Payne, and seek him out," Voldemort ordered Rodolphus Lestrange who nodded.

"How do you wish for me to dispose of him, my lord?" Rodolphus asked Voldemort who shook his head.

"No, Rodolphus, I wish for you to invite him, regardless of Antonin, I do not wish to get rid of a potential asset. This Payne seems to be a man of considerable talents. I wish for his talents to work for me, not against me," Voldemort smiled cruelly.

"As you wish."

"Severus, anything else you wish to speak of?" Voldemort asked quietly.

"Yes my lord, and I believe you will find this more pleasing," Snape smirked.

"Oh, do tell…," Voldemort gazed at him in interest.

"Harry Potter is missing, my lord," Snape spoke quietly.

A stunned silence befell. Everybody looked at Snape incredulously.

After a while, Voldemort began to laugh, and laughed loudly.

"So, Dumbledore's golden goose has finally left the barn, how ironic! Do you have any idea as to why, Severus?" Voldemort asked, his eyes shining with mirth.

"Apparently, Dumbledore imposed severe restrictions upon him, and virtually placed him in house imprisonment after the ministry debacle. The arrogant child did not take kindly to it, and rebelled, or so it would seem," Snape replied in a venomous tone.

"Oh, you think so…, well, what is your opinion, Severus?" Voldemort asked quietly.

"Dumbledore has revealed the contents of the prophecy to the boy, and it is my suspicion, that whatever he has heard has scared him, and that is why he has run away, like the coward he is," Snape spat, while Voldemort began to pace around.

"This is rather interesting, if he knows the prophecy, which I do not know yet…, hmm, Bellatrix, I have a mission for you," he barked as the insane woman stood up.

"Yes, my Lord?" she asked as she looked at Voldemort.

"Find me Harry Potter, and bring him back, alive, and not too hurt," he warned as he looked at the woman who got a wild gleam in her eye.

* * *

**2 Days Later,**

* * *

In the portkey office of magical Germany, the customs officer looked up at the next person in line who held his passport forward. He was a blond teenager, with a thin lithe build, and had blue eyes. He was dressed in normal clothing unlike many others and was wearing a fang-shaped earring on his right ear.

"Arriving from?" the customs official asked.

"Japan," the youngster replied quietly.

"Reason of visit?"

"Tourism."

"Name?"

"Rider. Alex Rider."

"So, what else can you tell me?" Fudge asked the lead investigator, as he eyed the body being carried on the stretcher.

Auror Dawlish, the lead auror in charge spoke softly, "Perhaps, we should speak in private, sir, some of the details are quite grisly," the man shuddered as he recalled what he had seen when he was called on site.

Soon, inside the minister's office, Fudge sat behind his chair, while Dawlish began to give his report. After he heard everything, Fudge began to pace around, and soon a cruel smile began to play on his face.

He began to speak, and when he finished, Dawlish had a look of incredulity on his face. "Minister, do you have any idea of what you are suggesting? Apart from being ridiculous and impossible, it is dangerous. You know what is going to happen tomorrow, if you push for this, you will be lucky to escape being lynched alive, let alone remain in office. When somebody holds a wand to your throat, you don't threaten them, this is most unwise. The entire nation will revolt if you do this, besides, you do not have even a remote shred of evidence to prove this, no, sorry sir, but I will not do this," the man spoke and turned around.

As he was leaving Fudge brought his wand out and pointed it towards Dawlish, and muttered, "Imperio," and Dawlish went slack. Fudge continued to give instructions and after a while Dawlish went away still under the effects of the curse.

Fudge sat back in his chair, smiling grimly. Soon, Harry Potter would learn that the vengeance of a cornered politician would be ten times worse than that of a dark lord, after all, when faced with trying to retain their power, even the acts of a dark lord paled in comparison to what a politician could do.

* * *

**DAILY PROPHET**

**June 30th, 1996, LONDON,**

**DOLORES UMBRIDGE FOUND MURDERED!**

**HARRY POTTER PRIME SUSPECT!**

_Earlier today in the press conference called by the beleaguered minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge, none of us expected what we were about to hear. A matter that would shake our very hearts to the core._

_The minister revealed that Dolores Jane Umbridge, former undersecretary to the minister, former high-inquisitor to Hogwarts, and former self-styled headmistress of Hogwarts was found murdered in her home, after being brutally tortured and injured._

_Ms. Umbridge was under trial for numerous crimes, which she had committed in her official capacity as high inquisitor during her tenure in Hogwarts, notwithstanding many other crimes that she had been accused of._

_Given below are the lists of crimes that she was convicted of by the Wizengamot in the trial that was concluded last week:_

_Attempted murder of Harry Potter, the Chosen one, as he is currently hailed._

_Torture of the students of Hogwarts, particularly through usage of blood quills on children._

_Specifically charged with numerous counts of torture on Harry Potter,_

_Bribing of criminals to obtain illegal information_

_Passing vicious and brutal anti-magical creature laws, bordering on genocide,_

_Minister Fudge had been severely criticized for turning a blind eye towards Madam Umbridge's high-handedness in his zeal to discredit Harry Potter, which misfired magnificently when the Boy-who-lived and his mentor Albus Dumbledore dueled the Dark Lord himself in the very premises of the ministry itself._

_As such, Madam Umbridge was arrested by public demand when all the students of Hogwarts (Barring the ones from Slytherin house, surprisingly) rebelled and stated in acrimonious terms that unless Umbridge was arrested and publicly drawn and quartered, they would not attend Hogwarts anymore. Needless to say, the shock of the parents and the Wizengamot was so great, that minister Fudge's vehement protests were drowned by the Wizengamot, and Madam Umbridge was forcibly arrested and interrogated._

_The results were as you have all known, Horrifying. Madam Umbridge was placed in house arrest until she was to be sentenced (Which apparently was to take place today), while an impeachment motion was passed by the parliament with the effect of kicking minister Fudge out of office, which also was to occur today. As such, many have viewed this event with more than a bit of suspicion and foul play is suspected. Besides, no one can deny that this event has occurred at a very fortune moment for Minister Fudge who would have been kicked out of office today, otherwise._

_However, back to the point, Minister Fudge today informed us that Madam Umbridge was found murdered in her home, and that the evidence pointed to shockingly, towards none other than Harry Potter._

_The minister stated that he had irrefutable proof that Potter had committed the crime, due to revenge, because of late Madam Umbridge's actions which contributed in a large manner to the death of Harry Potter's godfather, the late and exonerated Sirius Black._

_To quote the minister, Potter definitely has the motive and need to conduct the crime, and fueled by his violent tendencies, and apparent disregard in the efficiency of the law (which was caused by his ministry, which the minister conveniently forgot to mention), he has taken the matters into his own hands, and has fled the country, the minister reported._

_As such, the minister has sent missives to all magical ministries of all other nations and to the ICW, stating that Harry Potter is now a fugitive and a wanted criminal, and must be apprehended and returned to Britain to stand trial._

_Furthermore, with the re-emergence of the Dark Lord and now the reported Betrayal by the Boy-who-lived, the minister has declared national emergency and has seen fit to dissolve the Wizengamot placing himself in charge of the nation._

_Needless to say, things were severely chaotic, as many members of the Wizengamot openly accused Fudge of resorting to cheap and underhanded tactics to remain in power._

_Added to the question is the fact that, Fudge refuses to show the irrefutable proof which he claims to possess, on the other hand, Harry Potter is out of Britain apparently on vacation, which we have learned from his associates._

_But as to which side is speaking the truth, only time will tell._

* * *

As he read the Prophet sitting in a pub in Germany, Alex Rider sighed.

The hunt for Harry Potter was truly on, henceforth.

Harry was to put it mildly, pissed off. Fudge had crossed the limits of his tolerance, and now he would have to pay the price. You could push someone as far as you wanted to, but after sometime they pushed back. And Fudge was about to be pushed back, real hard.

He could try and kill Fudge, but that would be too easy. He needed to do something special for Fudge, one that would be for the record books. As of now, his status in the International Wizarding World was that of a Fugitive, and he didn't know how much longer he could rely on the aid of the Goblins. The Goblin nation was a separate entity in itself, but against the pressures that would come down upon it; he doubted if even the Goblin Nation would hold up.

However, first things first, he needed to go to the Public German Wizarding Library as soon as possible. He had been roaming around wizarding Germany for the last couple days, but now it seemed that he would have to cut it short.

Soon inside the library, Harry under the guise of Alex Rider, picked up tomes of magical laws and treatises and began to check up on the details he wanted.

* * *

"Quite some studying you are doing, young man," a voice came behind him, and he turned around to see an old man standing behind him, with a curious look in his eyes.

"I am sorry sir, I do not believe we have met before, and you are…," Harry politely asked as he looked at the old man.

"Ack, How rude of me, mein gott, I am Professor Karl Gustav, the assistant librarian of the Public Library, young man, and you are…," the old man asked as he offered his hand.

"Alex Rider," Harry spoke softly as he shook it.

"Now, Mr. Rider, what are you looking for? Pardon me, but it is not often that I see a young man of your age immersed so deeply in so many books, do ignore my curiosity," the old man spoke as he looked keenly at Harry.

"Well sir, I am doing a report on wizarding international history, and right now, I am looking for information on extradition treaties between wizarding nations. I find it extremely fascinating that there is no information on this aspect, particularly between the wizarding realms of Britain and Germany, So I was wondering if you could…," Harry spoke softly, even as the old man removed his glasses and cleaned them.

"Ah, I see, tell me, Mr. Rider, do you hail from Britain?" the old man asked quietly.

"No sir, I am from Austria, actually," Harry lied smoothly.

"Well, that is a rather delicate subject, Mr. Rider. You see, during World War 2, when magical and muggle worlds acted in collusion, Gellert Grindelwald was the leader of the German magical world. Although that is debatable, because the German Magical world was at that time, split in two due to a civil war, with the victorious faction being led by Grindelwald aiding Hitler of course. So, when Albus Dumbledore of Britain finally defeated Grindelwald, the wizarding world of Britain, the leading magical power at the time, naturally assumed command of the International Confederation of Wizarding Nations, and imposed draconian penalties upon Wizarding Germany," the old man spoke curtly as Harry nodded quietly.

"Therefore," the professor continued, "It is universally acknowledged that because of the damage Britain had suffered in the war, in a fit of vengeance, they imposed massive penalties upon Germany. They even went so far as to actually propose the annexation of Magical Germany by Britain to be enforced, and for Magical Germany to be made a colony of Magical Britain, preposterous I tell you! Only the intervention of Dumbledore prevented that from occurring of course, not that we would have allowed it anyway. Still, Germany alone was forced to bear the complete cost of war reparations single handedly, amounting to nearly 95 Billion Krauts, the german equivalent in wizarding currency of British Galleons. Furthermore, German wizards were vilified by their propaganda, and we suffered massive loss of prestige, our economy broken, and our reputation in tatters. No one seemed to realize that Germany also had suffered under Grindelwald. We were simply ravaged by the rest of the world, who tore into us like a pack of wolves, bent upon revenge, to sate their civilized bloodlust," the old man spoke softly.

"I see, that is regrettable, I have not heard any of this, so I cannot really comment upon that," Harry spoke softly.

"Of course, remember young man, history is written by victors, what you know as history is just the account of the side that has prevailed in the conflict. Everyone forgets that there could just have been another side to history as well, if things had been different," the old man spoke sagely.

"Coming back to your point," the professor continued, "Because of this behavior by Britain, Wizarding Germany alone remains one of the major wizarding powers to eschew any form of diplomatic relations with Wizarding Britain. We have no diplomatic relations with them and of course no treaties of any sorts as well. No foreign trade, no contact, and definitely, no extradition treaty with them. That is the reason why most of the fugitives from Wizarding Britain hide in our country," the professor spoke softly.

"And Britain knows of this?" Harry asked skeptically, still unconvinced.

"Of course, just check out the records in aisle 14, a comprehensive list of all the fugitives from Britain who have taken political asylum in Germany is listed in there. You should know, Mr. Rider, as of now, a cold war exists between Wizarding Britain and Wizarding Germany, and therefore, relations between the two nations are quite tense, and there is definitely no love lost between them," the professor finished.

"Thank you, professor, you have helped me greatly," Harry thanked the old man and after shaking his hand once more, left quietly.

* * *

As he watched the boy leave, the professor brought out a cell phone and flipped it open, "Ja, I think it is him, of course, I cannot confirm it, but I cannot deny it either, he is possibly the most probable one," the old man spoke curtly.

After a few minutes, he replied softly, "Idioten, how many seventeen year olds do you see reading upon extradition treaties? And if he is what we suspect he is, then this is the only choice he has to hide out in. Continue surveillance upon him, but be discreet. That boy is more than what he appears to be."

After another few minutes, he laughed as he listened to the voice over the phone, "If he is indeed Harry Potter, even then we do nothing. Even aid him discreetly, if necessary. Fudge can boil himself in oil for all I care, that condescending motherfucker has dug his own grave, let him lie in it. We do nothing, if they wish to ruin themselves, let them do so happily. It will make our revenge all the much sweeter, knowing that we did not even have to lift a finger to do anything," the old man spoke harshly as he closed the phone.

* * *

It had been nearly four months since her master had given her the order to capture Potter, but even then, Bellatrix Lestrange had never imagined in her wildest thoughts that Potter could be capable of something like this, something unheard and undreamt of.

Harry Potter, the Chosen one, the Boy – who – lived, had disappeared completely, and as ridiculous as it seemed, it appeared that he had finally abandoned the British Wizarding World for good.

Belatedly, she concluded that Potter had fled Britain, for it was impossible for anyone, no matter how capable his or her resources may be, to hide within the British Wizarding World, without it coming to the knowledge of Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, was firmly in control of the British Wizarding Underworld, and even had enough contacts via intermediaries in the muggle underworld as well, and it was impossible for anybody to operate clandestinely in that world, without it coming to his knowledge.

As such, Bellatrix finally moved on to the next stage, and began to issue orders to her subordinates. By nightfall, the orders had been carried out, and Bellatrix Lestrange had mobilized her private army of informants, and it was a formidable force. Thousands of pictures of Harry Potter, were circulated to these informants, who were spread all over the world, in the wizarding underworlds of the rest of the senior wizarding nations, spanning the entire globe, and she even sent out a notice in the muggle underworlds as well, thereby launching the most massive bounty hunt the world had seen in recent times.

Informants in all these places were alerted, and a bounty of one hundred thousand galleons was offered for the fugitive, a sum to take the breath away. In the muggle world, similarly, a bounty of ten million pounds was offered, and the muggle mafia fell upon it like a wolf pack.

Against such a locust – plague of eyes and ears, there would be nowhere for Potter to hide, Bellatrix advised Voldemort. This vast network of informants and mercenaries, could penetrate every nook and cranny of not only London, and also, similar scenes would be repeated in almost every major magical center around the world. Even Potter could not hope to hold out against such formidable opposition.

Bellatrix was almost right. There was one place where even she could not penetrate and that was Wizarding Germany. By the time, Bellatrix was moving, Harry Potter, in the guise of Alex Rider was firmly entrenched in Wizarding Germany, a place where even Bellatrix Lestrange's people would be hard pressed to enter.

By now, it was universally suspected that Harry Potter was hiding in Wizarding Germany, since Wizarding Germany was the only country in the world, which had absolutely no diplomatic relations with Wizarding Britain, and almost everybody believed that Harry Potter was in hiding, in that place.

They were all correct, but they were also, all wrong. Harry Potter was indeed in Wizarding Germany, but not as Harry Potter, as Alex Rider.

* * *

Still, Harry had been planning his moves carefully, and he had already taken steps, calculated to infuriate Fudge, Voldemort, and Dumbledore, the three factions hunting for him.

Within weeks after moving to Wizarding Germany, he had approached the German branch of Gringotts, and he had had the entire contents of the Potter & Black Vaults in Britain moved physically to the German Branch, and that had set off a veritable political landmine.

The Goblin Empire, which handled wizarding finances all over the world, was in fact a conglomerate of Goblin clans, each handling the finances of the wizarding world in the nation in which they resided. Because of the wealth of their British Patrons, the English branch of Gringotts, and consequently, the British clan of Goblins, had become immensely wealthy, much to the resentment of the other Goblin clans.

In a very shrewd move, Harry had had the entire contents of the Black Vaults and the Potter Vaults moved to a new vault within the German Branch, under a vault with the name of Rider. The British Goblins had protested fiercely, knowing that such a move would render a massive blow to their prestige in the wizarding world. For two ancient vaults to be emptied meant that their owners did not trust the Goblins to manage their finances, and above all else, Goblins guarded their reputations fiercely.

Harry had explained carefully in diplomatic terms, that he could not in good conscience trust Voldemort or Fudge to try and cripple his finances, in order to curtail his movements in an attempt to capture him, and that he could not allow his wealth, his only means of avoiding certain capture and death from his enemies be taken away from him. He assured the Goblins, that while he did not mean that as an insult to their efficiency, he was doing this as a precaution, because he too had no choice in the matter.

In addition, the British Goblins, in a curious manner had accepted his views, and since they knew that by ancient magical laws and oaths, they could not prevent the transfer, they had obliged. However, they had not taken it well, not at all.

The combined wealth of the Black and Potter Vaults made up for around fourteen percent of the entire liquid wealth of the British Branch of Gringotts, and such a steep loss, had hurt their reputation in the Goblin community severely. Moreover, the British Goblins directed their anger towards the beings that they held responsible for this debacle. The ones who had forced Harry Potter to make this decision. Cornelius Fudge, and Lord Voldemort.

Thereafter, the British Ministry of Magic found out that the Goblins had begun to treat their requests far more stringently. Requests for loans, and financings were being denied more often than before, and many a pureblood, felt their purses lighter.

On the other hand, the German Goblin clan had been delighted when Harry Potter had moved his entire wealth out of their British cousins, and moved it under their care. Needless to say, Harry's every request was accommodated, and the German Goblins gave him very generous terms, and the Rider Vaults, were now amongst the top twelve revenue generating vaults for the German Branch of Gringotts, and as such, the relationship between them, was very amicable.

Still, Harry had realized that even he too could not stay in Berlin, forever. Sooner or later, Voldemort's all pervasive influence in the underworld's would make its way into Wizarding Germany as well, and he knew that it was only a matter of time, before the witch hunt for him began once more.

And he was proven right.

* * *

However, by the time Voldemort's agents managed to gain entry to Wizarding Germany, Alex Rider had moved again.

Only this time, his destination was a place, which even Lord Voldemort's agents did not dare to enter.

A city called **Roanapur**.

* * *

_Roanapur, in the border of Thailand, is a unique place in the world. Although nominally it is a part of Thailand, in essence it can be stated that it is a nation of its own, and is the capital of crime for the world. The city is basically divided up into many areas, each of them under the influence of a certain group. The major players within Roanapur are the Russian Crime Syndicate 'Hotel Moscow', led by former Soviet Paratrooper Captain Balalaika, the Chinese Hong Kong Triad, led by former Police official, Mr. Chang, The Colombian Manisarela Cartel, led by Don Abrego, and the Church of Violence, led by Sister Yolanda, who are a major intelligence laundering group, acting as mercenaries for many nations. Apart from them, there are other minor groups, like the Italian Mafia, led by Don Verrocchio, who have been pretty much wiped out by the major groups, as a response to their confrontational nature; and the Black Lagoon Company, a part Pirate/part Courier group that operates there, and is the only acknowledged neutral group in existence in Roanapur. _

However, recently, there has been a new development in Roanapur, one that has forced the leaders of the three most powerful groups in Roanapur to come together for an emergency conference.

"My, this is certainly unexpected isn't it," Mr. Chang spoke casually, as he let out a long ring of smoke, while the ashes of his cigarette fell gently into the ash tray.

Currently, he was sitting in the Yellow Flag's conference room, the most popular bar in Roanapur, along with Balalaika, the leader of Hotel Moscow, the branch of the Russian Mafia in Roanapur.

"And unwanted," Balalaika replied softly, as she too took a long drag on her cigar.

Balalaika could be easily identified by the burn marks, which scarred most of the right side of her face, neck, and chest, which she suffered in Afghanistan, earning her the nickname "Fry-Face" by those who disliked her. She had long blonde hair, and usually wore a military greatcoat, thrown over a low-cut business suit.

In contrast, Chang came off as a minor executive, wearing a black suit, and sunglasses, giving off a calm and friendly air, even though he was one of the deadliest people in the world.

"So, what exactly is your point, Balalaika?" Chang asked as the woman began.

"Few days ago," the woman began softly, "I received intelligence that someone had purchased the land tract, falling at the southernmost tip of the city. The reason why it came to my attention was because of the fact that it came to my attention long after the transaction was completed," she muttered softly, while Chang frowned.

"That's … rather disturbing," the man muttered as he too got the undelivered message that the Russian woman was trying to convey to him.

"But that is not the cause of worry here," the woman continued as she looked at her colleague … of sorts.

"As soon as I learnt of this, I dispatched a section of my people to conduct reconnaissance on the area, and they returned with the information, that the owner has already constructed a residence in the area, and that he has already begun to live there," she concluded softly.

At this Chang, removed his sunglasses and pocketed them, a testament to how seriously he was considering this information.

He now understood the gravity of the situation, which the Russian was trying to convey.

Roanapur, was their turf, and anything that happened there, only happened if they allowed it to happen. But apparently, not only had the newest resident of the city managed to hoodwink them, and admitting that in itself was a tremendous blow to their pride, he had done it in a brazen manner.

This person, whoever it was, had purchased a large tract of land in the city, and he had already constructed a residence in that place, without any of it coming to their attention. That meant that this person had had construction material, & labor and other required equipment, brought into the island, and then he had proceeded to build his own little empire, right under their noses, and none of them had even realized it. This meant that this new person was a serious player, whoever he was, and he had enormous resources at his disposal.

And a person with such resources at his disposal could prove to be a serious hazard to their health and businesses.

He had no doubt that they had learned about the existence of this place, only because the owner had allowed it.

"So, who do you suspect these new players are?" Chang began as he looked at Balalaika who shrugged her shoulders.

"There are very few organizations in the world, which have the resources to pull off something of this magnitude, under our noses, & I must say, it is quite … vexing," Balalaika admitted softly.

Chang frowned as he considered the possibilities. The Russian Mafia, The Chinese Hong Kong Triads, and the South American Cartels were already firmly entrenched here, and the only ones with enough resources to rival them and pull off such a move were the American Mafia, the Irish Mob, the Japanese Yakuza, the Neapolitan Camorra, the Calabrian 'Ndrangheta, the Indian Mafia, & the Unione Corse.

But if any of them had made a move to entrench themselves in Roanapur, it would have been impossible, and word about such a venture would have reached them, it simply was not possible. So that ruled out organized crime syndicates, which meant that this was the work of a private individual.

He slowly turned around to face Balalaika, and it was apparent to him, that the Russian woman had reached the same conclusion as well.

"Well, it seems that we have no choice but to get acquainted with our new neighbor," Balalaika muttered, as Chang nodded in agreement.

"Keep me appraised, and if necessary, I shall see what we can offer in terms of assistance," the Triad boss mentioned before putting on his sunglasses, and walking out.

* * *

_**Next day, in the mid noon,**_

* * *

Even as Balalaika was busy attending the reports sent by her subordinates, she was rudely interrupted, as Boris, her second – in – command, barged into her office, looking breathless and haggard.

"Kapitan, an emergency … you are required at the ground floor," the man spoke as he gasped for breath, while Balalaika became grim. Anything that could force Boris to behave like this … she was suddenly cut out of her thoughts as Boris interrupted her again, "It is regarding the reconnaissance section we sent over to investigate the new Cottage over at the bay," the man continued, while she narrowed her eyes.

Just that morning, she had sent in a platoon of her best men, to gather intelligence on the place, and to find out who was residing there. An uneasy feeling began to claw its way into her heart, when Boris continued, "All of them have been captured," the man finished softly.

"That's not possible," Balalaika snapped in shock as she looked at her second – in – command, who looked ashamed.

Her men, were the cream of the crop in Roanapur. Everybody in the city knew of their capabilities. They were veteran combat troops who had survived the legendary Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan. To hear that such seasoned troops could be captured by mere gangsters, it was simply incomprehensible to her.

Balalaika, and her men, were members of the legendary Russian Special Forces Paratrooper Unit, the Vympel. To think that seasoned members of such an elite unit could be captured by mere gangsters was an affront of enormous proportions.

* * *

_Vympel (Russian: Вымпел, meaning "Pennant" from German "Wimpel", also known as KGB Directorate "B" ,Vega Group or Spetsgruppa V, Group B (Cyrillic for V) is a Russian special forces unit._

_The exact lineage of Vympel, is not known but the unit was formed in 1981 by the KGB Gen. Drozdov within the First Chief Directorate of the KGB, as a dedicated spetsnaz unit specialized in deep penetration, sabotage, universal direct and covert action, protection of Soviet embassies and espionage cell activation in case of war. Most of the Vympel operatives mastered two or three foreign languages, for they were intended to act in foreign countries, deep behind enemy lines._

_Vympel quickly gained the reputation of being among the best of Soviet Special Forces units, surpassing its GRU and MVD counterparts. However, after the collapse of the USSR, Vympel was decimated by endless re-organization and re-definition. It passed under the aegis of the Security Ministry before being receded to the GUO (the two institutions were short-lived offspring of the ex-KGB during the Boris Yeltsin era) and finally passed to the MVD (Interior Ministry)._

"Kapitan, the persons who have captured our men, have brought them back here, to our hotel, and are in the lobby waiting for you," Boris replied softly, as Balalaika was shaken out of her thoughts.

* * *

"Come again, sergeant," Balalaika spoke softly, as if she had misheard the quote.

"The ones who have captured our men have brought them back to us, and are waiting for you in the lobby of the hotel. It would seem that we were mistaken in our assumptions, about the identities of these new players. It would seem that they are, in fact, British," the sergeant concluded, while the woman's eyebrows rose sharply.

"And what made you come to that assumption, Sergeant?" she asked as she put on her coat.

"Because the one who has brought back our men, to hand them back to us, appears to be … a butler," Boris concluded, while Balalaika turned in astonishment to look at her second – in – command, who appeared to be almost, dare she say it … embarrassed.

"Interesting," she muttered as she made her way to the lobby of her hotel.

The scenes in the lobby, were to sum it up, chaotic.

All her men were standing at one corner, holding up their weapons, aiming at a lone figure that was standing behind four crouching men.

Balalaika took her time assessing the new comer, who to his credit, was standing unflinchingly, waiting for her arrival.

The … Butler… in question was dressed in the standard attire for Butlers, wearing a white shirt with wing collars and a bow tie, and grey slacks, black boots, polished to a shine, and white gloves on his hands, and his ensemble was completed by a black tailcoat.

He was around 5'11 in height, and had an extremely lithe build, and had black hair, and astonishing green eyes, and his forehead had an unusual scar on the left side of his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt, and he was wearing round glasses.

As soon as he saw her, he gave a small curt bow.

"My apologies for intruding upon your place, madam, but this morning, I was forced to apprehend these four intruders," here he paused as he pointed towards the four men who were on their knees, in front of him, bound and gagged, and on their knees, as he continued, " when they were caught intruding upon our grounds. During interrogation, they admitted that they were from this establishment, and as such, upon orders from my master, I am here to return them to your custody, since it is the desire of the master, to not engage in any sort of hostilities with the residents of this city. Might I be bold enough to inquire whether these men belong to your establishment as they claim?" the butler asked softly, in an accent, which was undeniably British.

The response to his question, was quite comical. Most of the men in the lobby lowered their weapons, looking astonished at the ridiculous scene in front of them.

"What the fuck?" one of the men spoke softly, as he gazed in astonishment at the butler, while some of the men held looks of amazement in their eyes.

At a curt nod of agreement from Balalaika, the Butler nodded, and brought out a curved knife from behind his back, and cut off the restraints of the four bound men, who looked sheepish and embarrassed.

But before they could retort, the Butler swiftly made his way towards his van, which was just parked outside the gate, and returned with a silver tray in his hands, covered by a white cloth.

As everybody watched, he made his way towards the newly freed prisoners, and after a small bow, removed the cloth covering the tray, only to reveal, four handguns, a set of radios and a pair of binoculars.

"Your equipment, gentlemen," the Butler replied softly, while the four freed prisoners, grudgingly took back their equipment.

Balalaika almost dropped her cigar seeing the absurd situation play out in front, and it appeared to her as if she was watching a badly scripted spoof film.

A butler, a mere fucking butler had apparently captured four seasoned troopers of one of the most elite special forces in the world. It almost reminded her of a scene in a cheesy adventure novel.

As she watched, the butler moved towards her, and slowly withdrew a sealed envelope and handed it over to her.

"My master invites you to lunch tomorrow, Madame, for a discussion over certain matters of mutual interest. Shall I inform him that you accept?" the butler asked formally, and looked at her, awaiting her reply.

Balalaika snorted as she looked at the embossed envelope, and after a snort laughed loudly. This was proving very interesting, and entertaining as well.

"So, has your master invited only me, or has he invited anybody else?" she asked after a moment, as she considered the new developments.

"Indeed Madame, invitations have been delivered to Mr. Chang of the Chinese Restaurants, and Mr. Dutch of the Black Lagoon company, and they have both accepted. Yours is the only reply pending," the man replied, while Balalaika raised her eyebrows.

"Very well, you may tell your master, that I accept," the woman replied after a moment, and the butler nodded in acceptance, "I thank you for your patience, Madame," the Butler replied, and began to make his way out.

"Wait," Balalaika spoke out, at which, the Butler paused and turned around.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you apprehend these four idiots?" she asked with a soft growl as she glared at the four recently freed men, who had the grace to look ashamed, while the Butler shrugged.

"Their movements and their actions were too predictable, and that was deterrent to their mission. They are superbly trained, and their skills are top notch, but I am afraid to say that they chose to tangle with someone more skilled than them, that is all," the Butler replied curtly, while Balalaika raised her eyebrows.

"You do know who they are, and what my men were, do you not?" she asked in a steely tone, as the butler shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

"It is apparent that all of your men are veterans of the Russian Special Forces, as evidenced by their behavior and characteristics, and I do not mean any disrespect, but as good as they are, me and my colleagues are better, because we were trained by the best there is," the butler replied curtly, while many of the men surrounding them growled softly at the sophisticated insult.

"And that would be …" Balalaika asked softly, while the Butler stared at her.

"The British SAS," the man replied curtly, while Balalaika staggered back in shock, while her men lowered their weapons, evaluating the butler in a new gaze.

"You were in the SAS?" Balalaika asked carefully as she evaluated the Butler.

"Prior to my current occupation, yes," the young man replied curtly, while Balalaika carefully evaluated the new information.

* * *

_The Special Air Service or SAS is a Special Forces regiment of the British Army that has served as a model for the special forces of other countries. The Special Air Service together with the Special Boat Service (SBS), Special Reconnaissance Regiment (SRR), and the Special Forces Support Group (SFSG) form the United Kingdom Special Forces under the command of the Director Special Forces._

_While the Special Air Service traces its origins to 1941 and the Second World War, they gained fame and recognition worldwide after successfully assaulting the Iranian Embassy and rescuing hostages during the 1980 Iranian Embassy Siege, lifting the regiment from obscurity outside the military establishment._

_The Special Air Service comprises 22 Special Air Service Regiment of the Regular Army, 21 Special Air Service Regiment and 23 Special Air Service Regiment provided by the Territorial Army. The three regiments' tasks are special operations in wartime and primarily counter-terrorism in peacetime._

_Currently, it is regarded as the most premier Special Forces Unit in the word, and is acknowledged by almost all militaries universally as the best there is in the field of Special Operations & Covert Warfare._

* * *

"Interesting, very … interesting," Balalaika muttered as she gazed at the young butler who was making his way out.

"What is your name?" she called out, at which the Butler paused, and turned his head around to look at her.

"Dobby," he replied as he paused for a moment and looked at her.

"Dobby?" she asked in surprise as she looked at the man who nodded.

"Just, _Dobby the Butler_, Madame," he replied, as he gave a curt bow, and walked out, leaving a shitstorm in his wake, knowing that by nightfall, the whole city of Roanapur would erupt in shock at what had transpired here, exactly as he had planned.

* * *

_**Somewhere in Russia,**_

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange had been on the trail of the elusive and mysterious Max Payne for the past four months, upon orders from his master, Lord Voldemort.

The elusive Payne had by now, become one of the most wanted figures in the Russian Underworld, both magical and muggle combined. His massive blitzkrieg of an assault on the Blue Lagoon casino in Moscow had come far out of the left. In one single stroke, this elusive assassin had thoroughly decapitated the entire Russian Crime Syndicate, and had sent a simple message to all international criminals in the magical world. Deal with the British at your own peril. In a single stroke, the man had made it extremely difficult for Lord Voldemort to acquire allies on the international arena. And the fact that he had used the director of the MSB, to do his dirty work, without even letting the old man realize that he had been duped until the very end, was, he had to admit, a masterstroke.

In the weeks that followed the killings, Rodolphus operated closely within Moscow, trying to find out all bits and scraps of information regarding Payne. As he slowly tried to make his way through the quagmire of rumors surrounding the man, Rodolphus learned how badly he had underestimated this new player.

The man had used a muggle name as his alias, that too … a name … that had been given to a fictional character, and he had used it brilliantly. Because of this misdirection, he had wasted four months, searching for a man who he now realized, had never existed in the first place.

Any reasonably knowledgeable muggle would have on the first glance, told him that Max Payne, the individual did not exist, and that this person, whoever he was, was using only the name; but the British Wizarding World's stubborn mindset pertaining to ignoring even the most trivial of muggle information, had worked very well for this assassin. This assassin clearly knew that his kind despised any sort of dealings with muggles, and he had banked upon that very trait to mask his work.

He had wasted months, months … searching for a man, who was carrying a name, which had literally no meaning. Everybody knew that the name existed, but the person did not, and any simple minded fool, could, at a glance, claim that he was Max Payne.

It was Rodolphus had to admit, once again, brilliant.

With a simple choice of a muggle name, the man had completely misdirected all of them, forcing him to waste precious time, and resources, while, the man had by now, no doubt, completely discarded that identity, & forged a new one.

This man was clearly a wizard, but he was also very knowledgeable about the muggle world as well, which meant that he was either a muggle – born or a half – blood.

All of these facts combined, made Rodolphus extremely wary. He was now dealing with an unknown quantity. A wizard, he could deal with. In fact, there were very few wizards in existence that he could not deal with, but, a wizard who used muggle means to deal with his enemies was a scenario that he was completely unprepared to deal with, and that, for the first time in years, made him wary of this elusive assassin whom he had been forced to track.

* * *

_**Roanapur, two days after the events at Hotel Moscow,**_

* * *

The whole town was abuzz with rumors about what had happened the previous day at Hotel Moscow. The fact that four of Balalaika's elite soldiers had been captured, and that too single – handedly, by only a mere … _butler_, had sent a thunderflash down the pants of many a person within the city.

Already fantastic rumors were beginning to spread about the newest resident of the city. The fact that a simple cottage had been built at the end of the city, without it coming to the knowledge of anybody, and more importantly, the identity of this mysterious and reclusive master of the cottage was a topic for hot debate, at the Yellow Flag bar.

However, one thing had been confirmed beyond doubt. The butler, who served in that house, was now officially confirmed as a hardcore badass. To capture four of Balalaika's ex service men, without receiving so much as a scratch in return, and then going so far as to go and return those men to their homes personally, that took balls of steel to do.

Already, the men who worked for many of the minor cartels were out on the streets, trying to gain any sort of information about this new phenomenon, but unfortunately, for them, no such information was forthcoming.

* * *

The members of the Black Lagoon organization were strangely for once, quite subdued.

Dutch, the leader of the Lagoon, was a tall and heavily muscled man of African – American descent, and was said to be a veteran of the Vietnam War. The other members of his team included Rebecca, known all around as Revy, a young woman of Chinese – American descent, who worked as an enforcer, and was extremely proficient in dual – wielding of pistols, earning her the nickname 'Two – hands'. The third member of his crew was Benny, a college dropout from the States, who was on the run from the American Mafia and the FBI, and was the mechanic and technical wizard of the Lagoon. The last member of the team was Rock, a Japanese man, around 25 years of age, and he was the newest member of the Lagoon. Originally kidnapped by the members of the Lagoon as a hostage, he had been abandoned by his own people as collateral damage, and after that incident, he had abandoned his previous life, and had joined the Lagoon crew. He now worked of sorts as a translator, a negotiator, and was the apparent accountant for Lagoon as well, and he disliked fighting, just like Benny.

"What the fuck is your problem, Dutch? If you are so worried by this fucking invitation, then drop it into the trash bin," Revy snorted, while Dutch simply gazed at her in an impassive manner.

"I don't think that is a good idea," Rock replied softly, as he gazed at the others, and continued, "We don't know who these new players are, but they are skilled enough to have taken care of Balalaika's Visotoniki, without any problems. It will not be in our interest to make potential enemies of them," Rock replied softly, while Revy snorted.

"What's the problem, Rock? You scared, you fucking Pansy?" Revy snorted, while the man just flushed.

"No, he is right," Dutch replied, as he looked at all of them, "I just had a talk with Bao, the bartender of the Yellow Flag, and with Boris from Hotel Moscow, and they told me the same thing. This new person, whoever he is, has sent an invitation only to us, to Balalaika, and to Mr. Chang, and he has some serious manpower to back him up," the man concluded, while Benny and Revy looked at him with calculative gazes.

"Boris told me about that _butler,_" Dutch continued, while the others became more attentive, because even they had heard about this _Dobby the Butler_.

"He told me, that that guy makes _Roberta _look like a kindergartener," Dutch concluded, while Revy's jaws dropped down in shock.

"You are shitting me, right?" Revy asked in stunned unflattering disbelief, while Benny and Rock paled in fear.

"Fuck," Revy swore after a moment, at which Dutch nodded, "My sentiments exactly. Anybody, who has a dude like that working for him, I admit, it is not in our best interests to piss them off," the man concluded, while everybody else exhaled deeply.

"So, when are we going?" Revy asked after a while, as Dutch looked at her in surprise.

"What, you think we will all pass up a chance like this," Revy snorted loudly, even as she holstered her custom-made Beretta 92 FS Pistols, in her shoulder harness, while Benny stood up, "I will get the car ready."

Rock just sighed in despair. _Why him, always?_

* * *

**England, Malfoy Manor,**

* * *

Bellatrix was waiting in the anteroom of the Malfoy Manor's west wing when the ark lord arrived. She'd known that the dark lord, whatever he might be, was a serious worker, and extremely thorough and professional at his work, always in his chambers by seven-thirty. The stories were right. He came through the door at seven twenty-five and waved for his lieutenant to follow him into his office.

"Well?"

"There is no trace of him, my lord. He is gone," Bellatrix replied curtly, preparing herself mentally for the cruciatus to hit her at any moment. While he was prone to slaying the ones who brought him ill news as a routine, Lord Voldemort also had the rare dichotomy of being able to curb his impulses at times, appearing more humane, although everybody knew that it was a facade. It merely meant that Voldemort was deep in thought, and had not bothered with the fact that Bellatrix had failed, which was a stroke of luck for her. With a deep breath, Bellatrix relaxed herself, knowing that she would not be punished for reporting her failure.

"Bellatrix," he barked in a sharp tone, which made her collect herself in time, as she gazed at her master, who was now deep in thought, apparent by the frown on his face.

"Retrace what we know of the sequence of events since Potter's departure," Voldemort ordered, while Bellatrix consulted her notes again.

"We know that he had a disagreement with Dumbledore, and left on his own volition out of the country, nearly nine months ago. We have learned that he managed to fool his muggle relatives, and escaped from their home, under the noses of Dumbledore's guards," she paused, even as the dark lord motioned her to go on.

"Afterwards, he made his way into Gringotts, where we learned that he had made some withdrawals from the Black and Potter family vaults, after which he vanished without a trace," she concluded with a grimace, even as she inwardly seethed at the fact that that mangy half-blood had dared to enter her family's ancestral vault. So grossed was she in her hatred, that she did not notice lord Voldemort's eyes narrow down.

"Carrying on, within four days of his departure, Dolores Umbridge was murdered, and Fudge very conveniently used it to frame Potter for that murder and had him turned into an internationally wanted fugitive overnight," she finished, while Voldemort stopped pacing and looked at her.

"And do you believe it, Bellatrix?" Lord Voldemort asked with a thin frown on his face, as he sat down.

"Do you really think that Harry Potter, the legendary golden boy of Hogwarts, and prized student of Dumbledore, would actually sully his hands with the blood, much less the blood of a woman, when it is known that he would not hurt a fly unless it was absolutely necessary?" he asked, while Bellatrix flushed awkwardly.

"So it is meant to appear, my lord," Bellatrix nodded. "I find the coincidence unconvincing, but there is no physical evidence to contradict it, or if there is, then Fudge has managed to hide it from everyone, including even you and Dumbledore," the look of disdain on her face showed what she truly thought of that.

_**Cornelius Fudge, managing to outsmart Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort? HAH, that would be the day when the sun would set in the east and rise in the west and she would marry a muggle!**_

Voldemort quietly picked up his cup of tea, even as she spoke, and that made Bellatrix more concerned than anyone. The dark lord was taking things more easily than she had feared.

"Have you found out who it was that killed this … Umbridge?"

"Our investigations have been comprehensive, my lord, but from the initial appearance, we have to assume that Fudge himself had her murdered, for two reasons. She was now a huge liability to him, and had nearly cost him his position; second, the timing is too convenient for it to be plausible. The murder of the woman who tried to nearly torture and destroy harry potter on his orders, being brutally murdered just an hour before his impeachment trial, and the convenient appearance of this elusive and damning evidence which blames potter for this incident is simply too convenient to be a mere coincidence," she finished while Lord Voldemort looked pensive.

"So then, what is your analysis, Bella?"

"I believe that Umbridge was murdered by someone who had a grudge against her, hell, people hated her more than even us, and she certainly made no friends for herself after that debacle at Hogwarts. My guess is, it was just a pure happenstance of luck that Umbridge was killed on the same day Fudge was about to be kicked out, and Fudge being the opportunistic politician that he is, used it to frame Potter to save his own hide."

"Or… you are ignoring the possibility that it was indeed Potter who got rid of the woman, my dear Bella," Lord Voldemort spoke with a thin smile adorning his face.

Bellatrix looked gob-smacked at that, as she just gaped at her master, even as words failed her.

"My lord, surely you cannot be serious?"

"Oh I am, Bellatrix, you do not know Potter like I do," Voldemort drawled with a smooth chuckle even as he stood up and began to pace around.

"He is very similar to me than even you can imagine, Bellatrix. You underestimate him far too greatly. Remember, not excluding our first encounter fifteen years ago, Potter and I have come face to face with each other at least four more times. And yet, every single time, he has survived. That in itself is a monumental achievement, and testament to his hidden prowess."

"My lord … I …," Bellatrix began only to be shushed as Voldemort continued to speak.

"Until now, he chafed under the control of Dumbledore, who sought to keep him under a leash. The old man knew just as I do, that Potter has a hidden vestige of ruthlessness within him, which is comparable to only mine. If sufficiently provoked, I have no doubts that Harry Potter can be far more ruthless than any other person. Indeed if such were to be the case, as I suspect it to be, then the fate that Dolores Umbridge has suffered will seem paltry compared to the violent retaliation, that I am sure he is about to unleash upon us. It would now appear that Dumbledore's efforts to tame that side of potter has failed, and miserably so," he chuckled while Bellatrix was trembling in anger.

"My lord, I must protest … you are overestimating him too greatly. It is simply not possible for Potter to be as you suggest," she nearly screamed in a hysterical tone as she looked at the Dark lord with fire burning in her eyes. Did her lord actually think about that mangy blood-traitor as nearly his … heaven forbid … **equal**?

"Do I Bellatrix? From what I have seen, that boy possesses an acute knowledge of how the political system in the Wizarding World works. Also, under the tutelage of Dumbledore, he has gained … I believe priceless knowledge about us and our side. This changes things," Voldemort said, more to himself than to Bellatrix as he turned back to his desk.

"An interesting indication, and one that cannot be ignored. Potter is indeed progressing – indeed, he may have become an instigator. Bellatrix, what is the current situation at the ministry?" Lord Voldemort asked, even as he looked at the woman who was beginning to fidget in discomfort.

"The hunt for Potter has been temporarily suspended as Fudge is doing everything in his power to conduct a rapprochement with the Goblins. Potter's daredevil stunt of emptying two ancient vaults have dealt an enormous blow to the prestige of the British Goblin clan, and has made them a laughing stock in the goblin world. It has adversely influenced every major pureblood clan and the ministry. Our country is quite possibly on the verge of economic ruin, if the situation escalates and the goblins rebel, which it appears is very likely to happen," Bellatrix concluded with a small frown.

"Which proves my point perfectly, my dear Bella," Voldemort drawled even as Bellatrix just looked at him in surprise, "If this is the kind of damage that Potter can wreak while just trying to cover his tracks, imagine what he can cause, if he were to be fighting us proactively. He fled the country, took his wealth with him, and in a single stroke, he turned the tables on Fudge by setting the ministry and the Goblins against each other by nearly causing another Goblin war, after four hundred years if I may add, thereby crippling the hunt for him even before it began, a stroke of brilliance that I would expect only from a hardened Slytherin. Now, it is more imperative than ever that we find him before he begins his assault upon us," Voldemort concluded as he sat down.

"You are certain of this, my lord?" Bellatrix asked apprehensively, while Voldemort looked upon her with a frown upon his face.

"It is what I would do, if I were in his place," the dark lord replied calmly as he looked at her, "When faced with insurmountable odds at home, the only possible route left for a person to survive, and more importantly … win; is to relocate and rebuild his strength. Potter, I am now sure, is safely hidden away somewhere, building up his own strength, his own network of allies and friends, and a fortress of his own where he builds his own strength in secrecy. It is not a mere coincidence that he emptied the Black and Potter vaults, Bellatrix. Those vaults contain priceless tomes of magic, and artifacts of hitherto unknown power, and if he manages to tame those powers and utilizes them against us, then the playing field between both of us becomes effectively leveled. Do not forget, I achieved my current level only after mastering all that the vaults of Slytherin had to offer. It is not inconceivable for Potter to achieve the same, after all, that prophecy did state that he was to be my equal; now, now more than ever due I rue the fact that I couldn't hear that prophecy in full," Voldemort sighed, while for the first time in years, Bellatrix Lestrange felt a cold chill run up her spine.

"So, what is our course of action now, my lord?"

"I would prefer that we find Potter before he becomes confident enough to challenge us in the open," Voldemort replied, while Bellatrix flushed.

"We…we have tried every possible avenue my lord, but, he has just vanished & …," Bellatrix began to speak, only to stop and blanch in fear as Voldemort raised his hand.

"Because you are going about it in the wrong way, my dear Bella. If you want to find a person, who doesn't want to be found, then you do not try to find the person; you must try to find out what he has been doing to stay hidden from others. Actions speak louder than words, and even Potter has left a small and miniscule trail for us to find. He did empty the Potter and Black Vaults did he not? Try to find that wealth instead of Potter. A person's movements can be hidden effectively, but movement of wealth of that magnitude cannot be. Contact our man at Gringotts and ask him to track where that wealth was transferred, and the same goes for our foreign contacts. Try to find if any major accounts were opened in any of the major wizarding financial institutions around the world during the same time. Find his wealth, and you find potter," Voldemort concluded while Bellatrix nodded with a fiery glint in her eye.

"I do hope you succeed, Bellatrix, for your sake," Voldemort drawled even as he stood up, while Bellatrix became petrified with fear, even as the dark lord stared at her coldly, "the reason why you have not been punished for your failures today, is because I know that you will be the first one that Potter targets to show his new resolve against us," the dark lord smirked even as he continued, "If Potter builds up his strength and comes after us, then he will have to prove that he is now capable of challenging us on our terms, and I have no doubt that you will be his first target. After all, your act of killing Sirius Black is … I believe the reason that Potter has now been pushed beyond the edge," he chuckled even as he looked at the horrified look on his chief lieutenant's face.

"So, dear Bella, I do hope that you find Potter, for your own sake. If you fail to do so, then it won't be necessary for me to punish you by killing you, **Potter will gladly do it for me**," he chuckled mirthlessly, "and you had better hurry, I estimate that you have three months at the most before Potter makes his move," Lord Voldemort concluded as he walked out, leaving behind him a very badly frightened and shaken Bellatrix Lestrange.

Lord Voldemort had been right on most counts concerning his analysis on Harry Potter's movements, with just one mistake. It would not take three months for Harry Potter to begin his assault, _it would take him only three weeks._

* * *

_AUTHORS NOTE_

This has been pending for quite a while. Ideas for so many new fics were bursting in my head, which made it impossible for me to focus on any of my existing fics before going any further, and therefore I had to get this out.

This is actually a rewrite of sorts for one of my old stories which I had taken down. I am a bit out of rythm due to my long absence, so do excuse any typos or grammar mistakes if you come across any.

Depending on reader response, I may continue this story or keep it as a one-shot.

Regards,

A.S._  
_


	2. Payback is a bitch, Mr Minister!

**Nine and a half months since the exile of Harry Potter**

* * *

_**Inside the offices of Gornuk, director of Gringotts, Wizarding Germany, **_

"The plan is fraught with complications. Implementation will be quite…difficult," a man spoke out quietly as he looked at the others. The office was Spartan in appearance, as befitting of the warrior race of Goblins, which showed their aversion to ostentatious displays of power.

Currently, there were four people present in the chamber. Gornuk, the clan leader of the Ainur clan of Goblins, residing in Germany, and the president of Gringotts, Wizarding Germany.

Ragnuk, his cousin & lord of the Bethmoora Clan, leader of the clan and president of Gringotts, Wizarding Britain.

Driftwood, the erstwhile manager of the Potter and Black clan accounts, current manager of the Rider vaults, senior head of Gringotts, Germany (Formerly of Gringotts, Britain).

Alex Rider, head of the Rider family, a.k.a. Harry potter, head of the Potter and Black clans.

"It is not the implications that matter, Mr. Potter," Ragnuk began, only to pause at Harry's raised eyebrows, "my apologies, Mr. Rider," the wizened Goblin began, with a cruel smile, and continued, "what you propose is possibly the most audacious undertaking that has been placed in front of the Goblin clans, it might very well lead to another war between our two races, if our involvement is made public," he concluded, even as all the three goblins glared at him, with curiosity brimming in their eyes.

"You may not know it, Lord Ragnuk, but you are already at war, even though you do not realize it yet," Harry spoke quietly, as the wizened goblin raised his eyebrow.

"The greatest threat currently facing the British Wizarding world is not Lord Voldemort, but the British minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge," Harry concluded, as the old goblin's eyes hardened.

"What you say could be construed as treason, in your home country, young man," Gornuk intervened, even as Harry nodded.

"Quite so, Lord Gornuk, however, I am at a point, where I am beyond caring about the opinions of the Wizarding world and its inhabitants. However, what I cannot ignore is the imminent threat that Fudge poses, to my existence. Voldemort is a distant threat, but before I move on to facing him, I must take care of the more immediate threat …" Harry paused, as Gornuk quietly murmured, "Fudge?"

"Fudge," Harry agreed.

"As you all know, before Umbridge's murder, Fudge was about an inch away from being literally kicked out of office. However, her murder gave him the chance, which he desperately needed to retain office, and more importantly, to take revenge against me, for nearly destroying his career, which was an unfortunate by-product of his own actions towards me."

"Her murder, however, gave him the perfect opportunity to turn me into a scapegoat, and begin his vendetta against me, in retrospect; I should have seen it coming. If I have learned anything from my studies, in the last year, it is the fact that politicians can either be your greatest allies, or your most fearsome enemies. In his blind hatred against me, Fudge is willing to sacrifice the well-being of the entire nation, as long as it fulfills his objective, namely, my destruction."

"So, what do you propose, Mr. Rider, to assassinate him, then?" Ragnuk asked bluntly, to which Harry shook his head.

"Any fool can kill a man, provided the right tools. No, Fudge, the man, is easily disposable, but Fudge, the minister, is an entirely different matter. If I simply kill Fudge, I will only lend credence to his lies, and turn him into a martyr. No, before I dispose of Fudge, the man, I must first destroy Fudge, the minister," Harry concluded, while the three goblins looked at him in surprise.

"Lord Ragnuk, correct me if I am wrong, but Fudge has threatened you with dire consequences, unless you ease up on the financial stranglehold that you have imposed upon the British Wizards, am I correct?" Harry asked, while Ragnuk glared at him angrily.

"Something, which I was forced to impose to display our strength and to protect our standing in the Goblin world, due to your daredevil stunt, and now, we stand on the brink of war. I cannot acquiesce to Fudge, to do so, would be to show weakness, and death is preferable over that to a Goblin! And if I do not, then Fudge will go to war, to assert himself, and that too is unacceptable," the pent-up rage that the old goblin had withheld finally burst out, even as Harry coolly weighed his options.

"I agree, which is why I have provided this plan, and it ensures that all of us, emerge victors, while we deliver a death-blow to Fudge at the same time," Harry replied, to which the Goblin leader snarled, "your plan poses too great a risk; you ask us to skirt upon, nay, nearly break the oaths, which we hold sacred," the old goblin raged, while Harry shook his head.

"Not if you follow my plan to the letter," Harry retorted, while Gornuk, the oldest goblin present in the chamber raised his eyebrows. Over the last year, he had become quite familiar with the young wizard. The young man was an anomaly in these days, he cared not for wealth, or power, and yet he wielded it in spades. He had provided the German Goblins, the means with which they could stand again proudly, and for that he owed a debt to the young man, and a goblin always repaid his debts, and therefore he would listen.

"This is what you will do," Harry continued as he outlined his plan as he looked at Driftwood, who came forward, and handed over a sheaf of papers.

"This …," Harry paused, "is a list of laws, which Cornelius Fudge passed under his authority as minister of magic in the last seventeen years, since the first fall of Voldemort. You will notice that as soon as these laws were presented, Lucius Malfoy ensured their passage in the Wizengamot," here Harry paused as the old goblin's eyes narrowed.

"And … your purpose in pointing this out?" Ragnuk asked guardedly, as Harry gave a predatory smile.

"What I want you to do is this. For every law, that has been passed, on the very next date, you will deposit a sum of one million galleons in Fudge's vaults, transferred on the behest of Lucius Malfoy. Ensure that the backdating paperwork matches exactly. As far as I can tell, between them, Fudge and Malfoy, were responsible for pushing through seventeen laws. So you will correspondingly transfer seventeen million galleons to Fudge's vault, and forge the documents, to match the dates exactly."

The three goblins remained shell-shocked, until Ragnuk exploded, "you are out of your mind, we do not have the authority to touch the vaults of a family without their consent, and Lucius Malfoy is still a much respected wizard. Did you forget that he escaped your clutches at the ministry all those days ago? He is still a prominent and dare I say it, an innocent man in the eyes of the public till date. And, Malfoy, Mr. Potter, will not remain ignorant, if we take seventeen million galleons at a stretch from his account. This foolhardy stunt, will provide Fudge the very reason he needs to wage his war against us," the old goblin raved, while Harry smiled coldly.

"Take the gold from my vaults," he spoke calmly, while the goblin elder became silent.

A deathly silence fell through the chambers.

"What exactly are you aiming at?" Gornuk asked quietly, even as Harry began to outline his plan.

"Take the money from my vaults, all that you need to do is forge the paperwork, so that it appears as if Lucius Malfoy has made the deposits," Harry concluded, while Ragnuk became pensive, as he considered the pros and cons of the plan.

"Doable, but we have no means of forging Malfoy's signature, not without breaking our oaths at least," Ragnuk conceded, at which Harry looked at Driftwood, who stepped forward and placed another set of papers.

Ragnuk looked them over, and nearly jumped off his seat in shock. "This is Lucius Malfoy's official seal, where did you get it? Did you invade the sanctity of Gringotts, if so, oath or not, I shall …," Ragnuk was nearly trembling in anger, at which Harry raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"No I did not, Lord Ragnuk, if you remember, I am still the head of House Black, and as such, I have the authority to inspect all the financial dealings of my family member's, and despite her marriage to him, Narcissa Malfoy, remains by birth, a Black, but due to her marriage, all her financial dealings need to be approved by her husband. As head of House Black, I have the authority to inspect all her financial dealings, which include these documents which contain …,"

"Lucius Malfoy's seal and signature, this is sheer genius, Mr. Potter," Ragnuk was trembling with excitement, enough to revert back by instinct to using Harry's original name, while Gornuk was stunned into silence.

"Of course, as part of my authorized investigations into Narcissa Malfoy's finances, I give you free rein to make copies of any of these documents as you deem fit, or even certain parts of these documents, like say, a certain part…"

"Which contains the signature of Lucius Malfoy, which we can now copy due to your permission," Ragnuk crowed in delight as Harry nodded in agreement.

"Of course, once this all becomes public, and it becomes known that I am a victim of conspiracy hatched by these two men, as the aggrieved party, I will invoke the laws of restitution, which will force these men to pay me double the amount of money, that was used by them to cause me harm, while Gringotts will have the right to confiscate their vaults for breaking the contract between yourselves and their families, which I believe should suitably alleviate the losses that you incurred when I emptied my vaults, now … we have a deal, I think," Harry concluded, while everyone became silent.

"So, you pay seventeen million of your own monies, destroy these two men, then take back your money, along with interest from them, which is essentially nothing but doubling your investment; with the added bonus of destroying those two men, and at the same time, you ensure that we are suitably compensated as well. Not only do you steal your cake, but you eat it as well," Gornuk sighed, as he laid bare the plan, even as he shook his head in reluctant admiration.

"You would have made a fine goblin, Mr. Potter," he concluded, while everybody broke into smiles.

"Let me outline the exact steps that you will need to take," Harry continued, as the two Goblin leaders leaned forward eagerly.

At the end of the meeting, one thing was certain in their minds. They did not want Harry Potter as an enemy.

* * *

**The next day, in the office of Ragnuk, Gringotts, Britain,**

* * *

Amelia Bones, head of the department of magical law enforcement, and Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Aurors, were surprised, when they received a personal invite from Ragnuk, lord of the Goblins, for a clandestine meeting. Tensions between the goblins, and wizards were still high, after Potter's absconding, and Fudge's declaration of martial law.

The goblins had claimed that by forcing Potter to flee and empty two vaults, Gringotts had been harmed economically, and as part of the contract between the Wizarding race and the Goblin clans, the wizards were obligated to make good that shortfall, or else, the goblins reserved the right to confiscate the amount required, to make up the exact amount of expenses, which the goblins deemed necessary to maintain two vaults. Currently, according to the Bank, maintenance of one premium vault amounted to five hundred thousand Galleons a year, and since Potter had emptied two vaults, it meant that Gringotts had suffered a loss of one million Galleons, which they expected the ministry to cover.

Fudge, had refused point-blank to do anything on behalf of Potter, and as such, the goblins had threatened to take that amount from the vaults of the ministry of magic, at which, Fudge had threatened them with dire consequences, if it came to that.

Needless to say, in such a moment of dire tensions, to receive a call for a clandestine meeting, had unnerved both of them, but they had received magical oaths of absolute safety, and therefore, they had acquiesced, and in return, the goblins had asked them of only one thing, to not let anyone know of this meeting.

"Madam Bones, Mr. Scrimgeour, thank you for accepting my invite," Ragnuk bowed graciously, as the two guests, cautiously greeted the old Goblin and took their seats.

"We were surprised to receive an invite from you, Lord Ragnuk, considering the current political situation between our two races," Amelia began cautiously, while Ragnuk nodded slowly.

"Why have we been called here, Lord Ragnuk," Rufus, asked bluntly, as a fighter, he was aware of the Goblin's warrior nature, and understood that they had no appreciation for diplomatic niceties. Amelia shot him a chastised look from the sidelines.

"To the point, I see," Ragnuk grinned in appreciation as he smirked and placed a sheaf of documents on his desk in front of his two visitors.

"Madam Bones, Mr. Scrimgeour, you are both aware of the tensions which exist between our races, so I will not go into the details. However, I will make one thing clear. Peace and normal relations between our two races will not be possible as long as Cornelius Fudge remains the minister of magic," he spoke bluntly, while Amelia and Rufus stood up in shock.

"Is that a threat, Ragnuk?" Rufus barked, even as the goblin leader snorted disdainfully, while Amelia and Rufus casually drifted their hands towards their wands.

"Hardly," the old goblin snorted, and pointed towards the two empty seats, as his visitors grudgingly sat down.

"What I speak is the truth," Ragnuk continued, "Fudge is an incompetent fool, but that doesn't make him any less dangerous. He would burn this world to ashes, if it would appease the hurt to his pride, and unfortunately for you, it will be your world, not mine," he spoke harshly, while Amelia colored up, even as Rufus gnashed his teeth in anger.

"You overstep your bounds, Master Goblin," Amelia retorted harshly, while Ragnuk chuckled.

"Do I? Have you not understood the fact that if both our races go to war, we will both be so weakened that the Dark Lord, will have no problems in conquering this nation? If we go to war, which I am sure Fudge will create, then he is effectively handing over your world to the Dark Lord on a silver platter! Do you not understand that much?" he asked harshly, while the eyes of his visitors widened in alarm.

"By Merlin," Amelia whispered in shock, even as Scrimgeour rapidly ran through many scenarios before he came to the belated conclusion that the goblin was right.

"He is right, Amelia," Rufus replied curtly, "Fudge is too committed, he cannot back down, or his competency as minister will be questioned, and to prove his competency, he will wage war with the Goblins, and that …," he sighed despondently as Ragnuk concluded coldly, "is as good as handing over the Wizarding world to the dark lord as a gift."

"And, you have lost two of your most powerful weapons as well," Ragnuk pressed on, "Dumbledore is too old, and past his prime, since when he faced Grindelwald. He may be able to withhold Voldemort for a while, but he is too old. Eventually, he will fall, the last bastion against the dark lord. Harry Potter, the only person, apart from Dumbledore, capable of facing Voldemort has been forced to flee this nation, due to a witch hunt initiated by your minister. Apparently, even Potter has come to the conclusion, that he cannot fight a war on two fronts, your ministry and the forces of the dark lord. So, he has simply abandoned you to your dismal fate, and you have given him no reason to endear yourself to him, which would force him take up his wand on your behalf against Voldemort. Do you not see, what is happening? Fudge has crippled your ability to protect yourselves against the Dark Lord, and now, he is pushing you into a war with us, which will reduce your already meager capabilities to defend yourself against Voldemort, to nothing. You might as well surrender, and hand over the reins to Voldemort yourselves, and I must say, your minister is doing it splendidly on your behalf," he concluded coldly, while Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour went pale with fear.

Ragnuk had to admit, Harry's estimations were spot on.

* * *

_Bombard them relentlessly with all the possible horrors they will face, without break. Give them no time to organize their thoughts and counter yours. Give them ample time to learn of the disaster that will befall them, but not the terms; let them evaluate the scale of catastrophe that will befall them, unless they accept your terms, by the end of which they will have no choice but to accept it._

* * *

As he watched the faces of his two visitors, go through the extreme pantomime of protest, before settling down to resigned acceptance, he dangled his lure.

"All is not lost, Amelia, Rufus," the old goblin spoke gently, as he prepared to dangle his lure in front of them.

"How?" Amelia exploded, in near shock, "there is no way out, and Fudge will not stop this madness," she spoke harshly, while Rufus nodded, "His power is now absolute, he can treat the slightest opposition to his actions as treason, we are effectively tied," the veteran auror sighed in despair.

"What if it was Fudge, who was the one being accused of treason?" Ragnuk asked genially, as both Amelia and Rufus jerked up, hope flaring in their eyes.

"Let me be frank, the Goblins have no desire to be subjugated to the whims and fancies of a mad man who fancies himself a dark lord, just as much as you do," Ragnuk continued.

"To that effect, we conducted a discreet and thorough inquiry into Fudge's dealings, so that we could find a way to do away with him legally," Ragnuk paused, as he pointed to the documents in front of him, "and as we goblins say, we struck gold."

"What do you mean?" Rufus asked sharply, as Ragnuk.

"These are the lists of all the laws that Fudge has passed through the Wizengamot, seventeen of them in fact, and the curious thing is, we noticed that the very next day on which each of these laws were passed, a deposit of one million galleons was made into his personal vaults by Lucius Malfoy."

A deathly silence befell in the chamber, even as Ragnuk delivered the coup-de-grace. "Curious thing is, each of these laws, mirror the aims of your dark lord. It seems that your dear minister and Lucius Malfoy have worked hard to impose the dark lord's dreams as your … dare I say it, laws?"

Rufus and Amelia quickly scanned through the documents, purpling in rage as they pored through the documents.

"I will kill him, I will rip apart that murderous son of a bitch, Malfoy, limb by limb," Rufus growled in anger, appearing very much as the grizzled lion that his appearance made him out to be.

Amelia was no less angry, but she controlled herself.

"Unfortunately, these by themselves will not be sufficient" Ragnuk continued, as the two stared at him shell-shocked. "These laws, while mirroring the views of the dark lord, are not illegal, as they were passed in the Wizengamot after the first fall of the dark lord and before his revival, all it proves is that the Wizarding government was guilty of gross mismanagement and negligence," he concluded while both of them winced.

"But, this next one may prove to be your salvation," Ragnuk continued as he removed another folder, even as Amelia & Rufus raised their eyebrows.

"This one pertains to the immediate aftermath of the absconding of Harry Potter," Ragnuk continued, as both Rufus and Amelia noticed the predatory grin in the goblin's eyes.

"Immediately, after the announcement of Potter as an international fugitive, Lucius Malfoy made a deposit of ten million galleons into Fudge's Vaults," he concluded, as both of them looked at him stunned into silence. Amelia was forced to take steady breaths to calm herself, while Rufus clenched his fists so hard that he drew blood.

"The main point to note is that these funds were not made from the Malfoy vaults, but from the vaults of _Slytherin_," he paused as it sunk in.

"Bloody hell," Rufus growled in shock as Ragnuk bared his teeth, "Yes, Mr. Scrimgeour, this deposit was made by Lucius Malfoy under his official authority as Steward to the house of Slytherin; you will find his seal on these documents. In fact, all the deposits made to Fudge's vaults in the immediate aftermath of the passing of these laws, were made from this vault. You will find Malfoy's seal on all these documents, which are magically authenticated, and impossible to forge," he paused, as Amelia sank to her chair, as the shock finally proved too much to bear.

Scrimgeour began to pace around, "the vaults of Slytherin, but the only one capable of claiming the lineage of Slytherin is …," his eyes widened in horror, "no surely not …," as he eyed Amelia, who had come to the same conclusion.

"Yes," Ragnuk concluded with an evil smile, "the only one capable of claiming the Slytherin heritage is the dark lord, and Lucius Malfoy is his official steward. Perhaps, it is time for you to re-examine if his acquittal as a death eater was valid?" he smiled, while Rufus's eyes gained a predatory glint.

"So, there you have it, Madam Bones, Mr. Scrimgeour, your minister has received bribes to the tune of twenty seven million galleons from the personal vaults of the dark lord himself, from his steward no less, if that is not treason, then I don't know what you humans consider as treason," the old goblin finished even as his visitors stood up, determination pouring out of their very souls.

"We thank you, Ragnuk, you may have just saved the entire Wizarding world," Amelia bowed deeply in gratitude followed by Scrimgeour, which shocked the old goblin, who had never been accorded such respect by senior ministry officials before.

"Still, it will not be easy, Fudge is entrenched in power, he will not let go, he would rather see the world burn, than give up his authority over it, this could even lead to civil war," Rufus began to mutter, as he began to furiously make plans and run scenarios in his mind, thinking about possible allies.

A small cough from Ragnuk interrupted his train of thoughts, as he looked at the goblin, who was smiling.

"There is a way to force Fudge to relinquish and submit," the old goblin concluded, as both Amelia and Rufus looked at him in surprise.

"I suggest that you take this evidence to Dumbledore, and leave the rest in his extremely capable hands; and as the chief warlock, it will be up to him deal with it, _and I am certain that deal with it, he will_," Ragnuk advised, while both of his visitors considered the idea.

"Dumbledore is not the one to go against institutions, which he himself created, even if he is not happy with the way Fudge is running things," Amelia pointed out, at which Ragnuk countered, "Ah, you might have been correct, but that would have been so, if Harry Potter still resided in Britain. I am certain, that even Dumbledore has by now realized that if anyone can beat Voldemort, it is Potter, and the only thing stopping Potter from returning to Britain is …," he paused as Rufus's eyes lit up, "Fudge!"

"Exactly," Ragnuk continued genially, "once it becomes clear to Dumbledore that Potter will return if Fudge is ousted, he will …,"

"Throw Fudge out on his arse like the piece of trash that he is …" Amelia interjected hastily in excitement as Ragnuk nodded, stroking his beard, in a manner eerily resembling Dumbledore's.

"I suggest you hurry, I believe you have a long overdue meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and more inportantly with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Ragnuk concluded, even as he internally danced a jig, and swore to build a statue in Potter's honor if this worked (which he was sure it would).

* * *

**Next chapter:**

_Cornelius Fudge stood panting; his eyes alight with fear, near the fountain in the ministry's atrium, as every person currently in the ministry watched the confrontation with fear and awe clouding their minds._

"_Come now Cornelius," the kindly voice of Dumbledore echoed through the halls, "Cease and desist with your tomfoolery, and surrender, unless you wish to become the first wizard to die by my hands, since Gellert Grindelwald himself," he ended with his tone taking a steely edge, as nearly everybody took a step back in fear, as a pillar or fire shaped like a phoenix, emerged behind Dumbledore's back._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Harry's dealings with the Lagoon crew will show up in the chapter after next. Sorry for the delay, I finally got my groove back; expect updates much more regularly from now onwards.


End file.
